


The Train to Texas

by TexasRevoFan (Lemonsaresweet)



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Now with smut!, Slow-ish burn, Trains, charloe - Freeform, post-Patriot War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsaresweet/pseuds/TexasRevoFan
Summary: Charlie and Bass are taking the train down to Texas for Christmas, and bringing some intel with them. Which will be harder -- keeping the info away from Patriot spies or keeping things professional while sharing a cabin for a week? Complete!





	1. Chapter 1

The piercing whistle of the train sounded through the station where Charlie sat, reading and waiting. Regretfully, she dog-eared the page and closed her book. She was at a really good part, but this was the second time the whistle had gone off, and she knew Miles would kill her if she let herself get left behind. 

Charlie swung her backpack onto her shoulder, popped out the handle of her rolling suitcase and made her way out onto the platform, somewhat hesitant in the smooth, heeled boots she was wearing. Her mother had insisted that riding on the train was a classy activity, not suited to Charlie’s usual wardrobe. So Rachel had “helpfully” outfitted Charlie with a week’s worth of feminine clothing, including her current powder-blue overcoat. She supposed it was nice, but all Charlie could see when she looked at it was the endless expanse of light fabric screaming for dirt to mar it. 

The porter took her large suitcase, and Charlie climbed the wooden steps of the passenger car. She’d been on a train before, but in that context, she had been more of a hijacker than a passenger. She smirked. That had been over a year ago, when the war with the Patriots was just starting. Boarding as a passenger, she reflected, was less exciting but far less stressful. 

Entering the corridor of the cabin car, Charlie had to admit she was impressed. One side of the hallway was all windows, which for now just showed the scene of the bustling train station -- the steam surrounding the train, workers swarming around, people as finely dressed as herself making their way aboard. The hall had a deep red carpet, and brass lanterns all along the walls that were lit despite it being daytime -- an ostentatious luxury -- bathing the interior in warm light. Green wreaths with red velvet ribbons hung between them. The other side of the car was lined with wooden doors with brass numbers on them, the passenger compartments. The Texas Union government hadn’t quite sprung for first class, so these were shared berths, Charlie knew. A small knot of anticipation in her stomach, she followed the numbers until she reached Cabin 8. 

Knocking lightly first, so as not to startle the room’s occupant, she then tried the door, which was unlocked. She swung it open and stopped in shock. 

Shirtless Bass Monroe stood half-turned away from her, rummaging through his bag. Charlie had certainly seen the man half-naked more times than she could count, but it was still a hell of a sight. Her hunter’s senses quickly absorbed the sight of his strong back, the black lines of his tattoos, the hard points of his nipples in the slightly chilly air. 

“Hey, brother,” he said, not looking up, intent on his search. “Some asshole in the station spilled coffee on my shirt, and now I can’t find the one I wanted…” 

“Um,” Charlie said. Bass’ head snapped up. “Yeah, not Miles,” she added. 

“Charlie,” he greeted her, standing up straight to face her, his bag forgotten. “Where’s Miles?” 

“Okay, well first he said don’t kill him,” Charlie explained, relaying the message from her uncle. “And then he said he’s sorry, but Rachel didn’t want him to leave D.C. for the holiday. So he’s staying behind.” Charlie felt the train begin to move, as if punctuating her statement. 

Bass was staring at her in disbelief. “And he sent you instead?” 

Charlie smirked, “Yeah.” She paused. “You gonna get dressed now?” 

Snapping out of it and glaring at her slightly, Bass went back to his bag, digging around with more urgency than before. Finally, he pulled out a button down and shrugged into it. Charlie noticed that he, too, was dressed more nicely than usual. Maybe her mom hadn’t been totally full of it. 

“Did Miles explain to you anything that is going on, by any chance?” Bass asked sarcastically. “Or does he expect me to brief you?” 

“Guess you’ll have to handle it,” Charlie said, taking a perverse glee in his obvious annoyance. “Miles told me this wasn’t just a pleasure cruise and made sure I was fine backing you up, but that was about it.” 

Bass rolled his eyes. “Great. Glad to hear he couldn’t tear his lips off your mom’s ass long enough to even do me that solid. Sorry,” he corrected himself immediately, waving away any protests she might have to his slander of her mom. Charlie hadn’t planned on raising any. 

To Charlie’s relief, Bass finished buttoning his shirt, but her heart leapt again as he opened his pants to tuck it in. She tried to get ahold of herself and thought that maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Bass met her eyes for a hot second as he finished buckling back up, then quickly looked away, turning back to his bag. 

“Okay, so, short story, your moron uncle was supposed to be helping me get some intel safely down to Texas,” he explained. “Watching my back, in case there’s some Patriot bastard in disguise on board and he tries to get his hands on it.” 

“Or she,” Charlie corrected. “A spy could be a woman.” 

“Fair enough,” Bass agreed. “Though not too many women do what you do.” 

Charlie glowed at the apparent admiration in his voice and the compliment. “True, but that just makes it even harder to know when you’re dealing with one of us,” she pointed out. She thought back to when Drexel had forced her to act as an assassin, her first act of espionage, using her youth and beauty as a weapon. Shuddering, she pushed the thought away. 

“Right, well, if it is a woman, maybe it’s actually a good thing you’re here,” Bass said. “If there’s one thing the last few months have shown us, it’s that your uncle is useless at standing up to women.” 

Charlie snorted. She couldn’t disagree. Her family (and Bass) had relocated to Washington, D.C., the northern capital of the new Texas Union government, since the Patriot War had ended several months before. Miles and Rachel were both high-level Union officials, but Rachel kept Miles pretty well under her thumb. It seemed pretty obvious to Charlie that he was terrified of letting himself once again slip into becoming the Butcher of Baltimore, and so he let Rachel control his every move. 

Bass pulled a leather folio out of his bag. “This, by the way, is our cargo,” he explained, holding it at a few angles so Charlie could see. She nodded, and he put it away, sliding his bag under the bed. The room was divided into two halves. To the left was a set of bunk beds, and to the right was a set of drawers and mirror next to a small desk with a stool beneath it. A rectangular window let in light and gave them a view of the woods beyond where the train station sat on the edge of town. It was cramped, but Charlie’d stayed in worse. Though, she reflected, never for a week, alone with a man. Let alone with Bass. 

She looked up, and he was watching her assess the room. “You good with top bunk?” he asked. “I want to be able to get to the door. If something happens.” 

“Would Miles have taken the top bunk?” Charlie teased, already throwing her bag up there. She didn’t care. 

“He always claimed he was afraid of heights to get out of it back in basic,” Bass replied. “Never seemed to bother him when he was hanging halfway out of a Blackhawk during training exercises, but somehow when it was time to go to bed, he couldn’t climb up the four feet.” He laughed. “God, I haven’t thought about that in years.” 

“What’s a Blackhawk?” Charlie asked offhandedly, hauling herself up onto the bed to test it, laying down to get the feel. 

She heard Bass pause slightly, then he answered, “A helicopter.”

Charlie’s breath caught. It wasn’t a word she had occasion to use often, and truthfully she associated it with only one thing. The Militia. Bass--no, General Monroe--and his fucking pendant and the attack on the Rebel stronghold and Danny… the sound of the chopper blades suddenly filled her ears, and she closed her eyes and breathed in and out deeply, fighting off the memories, the feelings. 

“Hey,” she heard Bass ask hesitantly. “You okay?” 

Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, Charlie pursed her lips and nodded. She hated herself for being so weak, after all this time, hated that the most random things could set her off. Sometimes she’d go days without thinking about it, and then it would hit her out of nowhere. She opened her eyes, and Bass was right at her eye level, staring at her with concern. But cleaned up as he was, pressed collar along his neck, suddenly it wasn’t Bass, the man she’d fought alongside for so long, but General Sebastian Monroe. Her stomach rolled. 

“Just go,” she managed to whisper, throwing an arm across her eyes. She heard Bass turn and leave, shutting the room to the cabin with finality behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Bass stood in the hall for a second or two, his back to the door of the cabin. He had the sudden urge to stay in the corridor and guard the door, protect Charlie. He knew it was stupid, since generally she could handle herself. And the last thing she would want to see if she decided to come out was him again. Still, he didn’t want to deal with anyone else, so he just leaned against the wall a few doors down from their cabin, impatiently adjusting his position when his head brushed against one of the numerous wreaths hanging in the hallway.

Self-loathing roared through Bass, ignited by Charlie’s obvious pain at the memory of her brother’s death. Of course he hadn’t been thinking about that when he mentioned Miles in the helicopter. But that was the only memory of helicopters that Charlie had. How could he have been so stupid? He knew his thoughtlessness was at least partly due to being caught off guard at the sight of her. Not just the fact that Charlie was there instead of Miles, but how she had actually looked. Charlie in her usual apparel was disarming enough. But seeing her in that blue coat, which exactly matched the color of her eyes, had rendered him unable to even move for several seconds, let alone think critically enough to avoid one mentioning one of the many, many painful topics in their shared history.

One night, months ago, Charlie had told him exactly what had happened the day his militia’s helicopter had slaughtered her brother. It was during one of their many long nights next to a campfire during the war: the nights when they were unable to sleep and just passed the time, keeping watch, waiting for dawn to break. Bass inhaled deeply as he remembered that night.

_The rest of the company was either asleep or far away. It was just the two of them, shoulder to shoulder next to the roaring campfire. He and Charlie had been talking about normal stuff, the day, the mission, and somehow got onto talking about childhood friends. Which led to Danny. And somehow, she had decided that this was the time to tell Bass about the day Danny died._

_Bass understood his role in Danny’s death. He had asked Charlie for her forgiveness many times over, in various ways, both explicit and subtle. But this was the first time she had talked about that day. He had known about the mission that killed Danny from the official report, of course. From the perspective of his militia officers, the engagement had been a failure: only a few Rebels exterminated before they had to abort. But from Charlie’s perspective, they’d destroyed everything._

_As she’d described, minute by minute, what had happened, Bass felt like he’d been on the rack, emotionally, battered and stretched out from following Charlie’s harrowing tale. He wanted to cry out, shout, break something, but he couldn't. All he could do was listen to her as she described how the sadistic dictator he’d been had killed the brother she loved._

_“And I wanted to run to him, but I couldn’t. Nora wouldn’t let me,” Charlie said quietly, staring into the fire. “They would have killed me, too, for certain.” Bass’ throat tightened, knowing she was right. Horrified that in fact, he probably would have been pleased. Both Matheson kids taken out, good. Weaken Miles and therefore the Rebels. A successful mission. And he never would have known Charlie._

_“Anyway, when they finally left, I guess we took him out of there. I don’t really remember. I just remember Miles and Aaron buried him. And I didn’t want to leave.” Slow tears were running down her face. “I felt like if I left, I was leaving him for good. As long as we stayed there, he and I were still together.”_

_Bass understood. His memories of the days following Shelly’s death were like glimpses of a nightmare, but he knew he had stayed at her gravesite for days, refusing to get off the ground, becoming violent with anyone who tried to make him move. It had been Miles who eventually forced him to get up, who practically dragged him back to the world of the living rather than letting him wallow in the world of the dead._

_“Miles made us go,” Charlie said, almost as if she’d been reading Bass’ thoughts. “He said Danny was dead, and we had to go. That staying there wouldn’t do any good and that we needed to…” She looked up and met his eyes. “We needed to stop you.”_

_Bass shook his head. There were no words. There was nothing. What could he say to this woman? How could she stand to sit here with him, talk to him like he was a human being rather than the monster who killed her brother? Her father? Stole her mother, her childhood? He had a sudden, crystal clear urge to open his veins, to spill his own blood on the ground for her, to try to make up for all the blood he’d spilled, atone somehow, but damnit it didn’t work that way, and pouring out every drop of his life wouldn’t bring back the ones who were dead._

_“I’m sorry.” The words, from the bottom of his soul, the truth in simplest form. He was. So sorry, for all of it._

_“Yeah,” Charlie said with a heavy sigh. She looked back at the fire. “I know you are.” And she took his hand, clutching it so hard it hurt, so hard her muscles shook slightly. “I know,” she repeated, and it felt like they were drowning, and one of them was pulling the other out of the torrent, though it wasn’t clear who was pulling who. Bass covered their hands with his other one, and she leaned into him, seemingly huddled against the onslaught of emotion._

_Slowly, she turned her face to his, and they were only a few inches apart. Her eyes met his, looking as wild and desperate as he felt in that moment. He saw her thinking through it before she did it, for just a split second, but he knew it was coming. She kissed him, furiously and hard, pulling him into her with their still-joined hands. Bass kissed her back, feeling her, real and hot, alive, with him. Ghosts and demons swirled around them, but reality focused down to just him, and her. Her lips tasting sweeter than he’d imagined, her tongue exploring his._

_They paused, then she kissed him again, pulling her hand out of his to wrap around his neck, her thumb against his jaw. He hitched an arm around her waist, securing her to him, pouring all he had into her. In that moment he had the reckless thought that he would give his life to her, not in sacrifice, but devotion. He was hers. He was hers. If she would just forgive him, make him human again, he would be hers. He growled slightly into her mouth at the thought._

_Charlie pulled away, resting her forehead against his, both of them breathing hard. I will tear worlds apart for you, he thought. I will make it up to you, Charlie. I swear._

The memory of that night stung him now. A better man would have lived up to that vow. Instead, the moment had passed. Charlie had gotten up, gone to bed, and eventually he’d done the same. The next morning, he watched her for clues, so when she acted like nothing had happened, he followed her lead. Eventually, it began to feel like the memory of a dream, but he tried not to think about it at all. It had clearly been a moment of madness, one that would not be repeated. Much as he might want it.

Realizing that he really should find something to do with himself other than lurk in the hallway like a stalker, hoping he could find some relative privacy somewhere on the train, Bass peeled himself off the wall and made his way to the door at the end of the car.


	3. Chapter 3

After awhile -- she couldn’t have said how long -- Charlie calmed down. Telling herself to be tough, to stop wallowing, she forced herself to get up. She needed to go find Bass. She felt terrible remembering the concerned look on his face, the heavy feeling of his remorse in the air as he left. While once she would have savored the thought of making him feel the weight of his many sins, those days were long past. Strange as it was, she now hated seeing him in pain like that.

Charlie left the cabin and tried to intuit which way Bass would go, but ultimately chose randomly and headed off toward the front of the train. A small, hand-lettered sign at the far end listed several destinations: third class, bar car, observation car. This last one, Charlie was unfamiliar with, and it was just two cars down. It seemed as good a place to start as any.

Entering the observation car, Charlie was awestruck. One entire wall of the car, and part of the ceiling, was made up of windows. They were a ways south of D.C. now, going through the Shenandoah Valley, and the view was stunning. It had been an unusually cold winter, and the lush hills and valleys were covered in pure-white snow. The sun was going down, casting an orange glow across the landscape.

Lined up facing the windows were pairs and groups of chairs. They were nothing fancy, just utilitarian, red-upholstered seats, arranged with the purpose of allowing passengers to sit and take in the view at their leisure. This car, too, was decorated for Christmas, with fragrant green garlands lining the wall behind the chairs, and small decorative items on the tables between them.

There were a few pairs of people talking quietly, but the car was mostly empty. Charlie glanced past them then spotted Bass. He sat alone, in the middle, as far from either of the doors as possible. The chair next to him was empty. And no wonder. Brooding Bass Monroe was not exactly a welcoming sight. Well, not to most people. Charlie took a second to appreciate the sight of him gazing intently out into the night, holding his hand over his mouth as he did when he was deep in thought.

He must have sensed her staring at him because he looked over at her and followed her with his eyes as she approached, then stood up as she neared.

“Care if I join you?” she asked.

“Yea, sure,” he replied, gesturing she should sit and following suit when she did.

“Sorry about before,” Charlie began. “I hope I didn’t make you feel bad. It just sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

“Of course I feel bad,” Bass protested. “I never should have brought it up.”

“You didn’t. You know how it is. It can be anything, or nothing. Sometimes it just hits you. But I’m fine. It’s not your fault.” Not entirely true, but she really just wanted to move on. “Let’s forget about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Bass agreed. They lapsed into their usual comfortable silence, watching the landscape whisk by.

Charlie picked up the glass ball sitting on the table between them and examined it. It had water and a little scene with a Santa inside, his bag overflowing with toys. Charlie cracked a smile at the memory of some Christmases when she still believed in Santa.

Bass reached over and covered her hand with his. “Turn it over,” he said, demonstrating. He upended the globe, and little white flakes flew around inside. He righted it gently and released her hand. Charlie couldn’t help but grin.

“Cool,” she said. “Never seen one of these before.”

“It’s called a snow globe,” Bass explained. “Makes snow look a lot cuter than it really is when you’re out there.” He gestured toward the window.

Charlie snorted at his cynicism. “Oh come on. This early in the season, it’s not so bad. I used to love snow around Christmas. It wasn’t until we’d been buried for months at a time that it got really hard.” She remembered back to her childhood in Wisconsin. “Come March, then yeah, I started to hate the stuff.”

“We lost so many men in the winter,” Bass said, clearly still in a dark mood. “You have them build shelters, send them with what you think is the right equipment and provisions, but too damn often it isn’t enough. I hate the snow.”

His mentioning provisions for the cold triggered a memory, and a revelation. “Wait, did you… did the militia… this is crazy, but I feel like I remember some guys showing up at the village one year around Christmas time with coats and things. A whole wagon full of them. Was that you? I mean, them, your men?”

Bass nodded, “Probably. Tried to do that kind of thing when we could, distribute supplies for people, especially if we found a warehouse or something.” He paused. “I mean, the whole Republic started with me and Miles trying to keep our people alive. It was like that for a long time. It just…”

Charlie mentally filled in the rest, which she’d heard from her uncle and Bass a hundred times. It just all went wrong somehow. She felt the need to get Bass out of this mood he was in. Normally, she let it go, but they were on a train, an adventure. It was nearly Christmas. No reason for him to be dwelling on the past.

“Well, that day with the coats was awesome,” she continued her story, recalling more as she spoke. “I remember now, I got a purple coat with fur on the collar. Danny got a red one. He couldn’t do too much, but I helped him make a snowman, and for once we actually got through it without almost collapsing from frostbite.” She continued, “Then I had a snowball fight with a bunch of the other kids, which really just meant tackling each other in the snow and throwing it around. But for once, we all had these amazing waterproof coats, and it was like we couldn’t even feel it. God, I wore that thing for years, til the sleeves were practically up to my elbows.”

Bass’ expression softened as she spoke, and he was clearly willing to lose himself in her story, so she kept going. “On days like that, when we’d be out in the snow, working or playing or whatever, we’d come home and sometimes Dad, or Maggie, later on, would have hot tea ready. It felt so good to practically burn our hands on the mug, warming up.” She turned to Bass, “How about you? What was Christmas like in the capital of our grand Republic?”

He shot her a look at her sarcastic tone, but answered. “Christmas in Philly was great. We always had the state house decorated to the nines. We justified it as a morale thing, but really I think we just liked it. Things somehow always seemed to calm down that time of year. It felt like we could just enjoy the safety and security we were always fighting so damn hard for. We’d have parties, and eat a lot, drink a lot. I remember a lot of cinnamon in everything. You would have really loved it, Charlie. I’m sorry you never got to be there.”

“Not for a lack of effort from you and Miles, right?” she replied. She knew that Miles, and later Bass, had searched for her family relentlessly. Of course, by the time they found her, Philly was anything but the happy place Bass was describing.

“Right,” Bass said, and they fell silent again. They sat there until the sun went down, eventually ordering snacks from a server who came by, watching until the landscape was so pitch black there was nothing left to see, and all they could see was their own reflections staring back at them in the window.

They returned to the cabin, ready to go to bed. Charlie suddenly felt that the room was very, very small. Nudity and various states of undress had almost no meaning in war, of course, and she and Bass had seen almost every inch of each other in that context. But patching up a flesh wound from a bullet graze or helping someone out of blood-soaked clothes was a far different scenario from getting undressed in their small cabin, intimately lit by the warm light of a lantern, just the two of them, without an entire unit of men nearby.

Besides, on the road, they usually slept in their clothes, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Charlie’s face heated as she thought of changing into one of the nightgowns she’d slipped into her bag. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, fitting with her perception of the train as a safe, luxurious space. Now she found herself wishing she had just packed her usual sweatpants from home.

Bass seemed to have no problem with the situation, as he pulled his nightclothes out of his bag and began unbuttoning his shirt without hesitation. Charlie realized she’d never seen him in anything that could be termed “pajamas,” and she quickly turned away, lest she seem too interested. Edging around him to where her suitcase was sitting on top of the dresser, she took a nightgown out of one of the pockets. Quickly slipping out of her pants and top, she pulled the nightgown over her head. It was simple, and hardly even sexy -- just black, stretchy cotton with a small lace border at the hem. Nothing to be self-conscious about, she told herself as she turned around.

Bass was just pulling his shirt down, and she got a brief but delectable glance of taut abdominal muscles as the soft cotton fell into place. His gaze focused on her, and Charlie was forced to rethink her assessment that her nightgown was not sexy. He looked like he wanted to devour her, and suddenly the tension in the room was overwhelming. They were inches apart, she was nearly naked, and clearly this had been a very, very bad idea.

Then Bass grinned in the way that she knew meant he was about to make fun of her, and the mood evaporated. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up just for me,” he said lightly, turning to crawl into his bed.

“Ha ha,” Charlie deadpanned. “It seemed like the kind of thing to wear on a train, okay?”

“Sure, train nightgowns. I get it. Makes sense.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, not gracing him with a response, then saw her next problem--climbing up into her bed while wearing almost no clothing. Bass was not in the mood to be a gentleman, apparently, laying down and watching her unabashedly as she considered her dilemma. Not willing to give him the satisfaction of asking him to look away, because let him look if he was so damn interested, Charlie planted one foot on Bass’ bed, near his leg. Bouncing off of it, she threw her other knee up over the side of her bunk, her nightgown riding halfway up her ass as she did so. Quickly, she scrambled into place and under the blankets, ignoring Bass’ amused snort.

“You good?” Bass asked, reaching out to turn off the lantern, the black M tattoo on his forearm illuminated as he did.

“I’m good,” Charlie said, absently running her fingers over the matching M on her own wrist, then catching herself and pulling her hand into a fist instead. “‘Night, Bass.”

“‘Night, Charlie,” he replied. Charlie normally had trouble sleeping, but tonight she drifted off quickly, lulled to sleep by the motion of the train, and the rhythmic breathing and the close, steady presence of the man in the bed beneath her.


	4. Chapter 4

Bass woke up the next morning with a smile on his face, immediately recalling the last sight he'd seen before going to sleep the night before -- Charlie's toned legs and ass hanging out of her uncharacteristically feminine nightgown as she'd scrambled into her bunk. That had been one for the books. Unfortunately, by the time he woke up, Charlie was already up and out of the room, so he missed the corresponding dismount. Oh, well. There was always tonight. 

He and Charlie passed the day idly, spending some of it together, some apart. Their activities consisted of relaxing, reading, and exploring various parts of the train, but also making themselves useful by talking to other passengers, keeping an eye out for persons of interest. 

As evening fell, Bass entered the dining car. It had been set up for dinner service, and he had to admit he was impressed. He’d lived in relative post-Blackout luxury as President of the Republic, and now as an officer in the Texas Union military, but this was another level. The dining tables were spread with smooth tablecloths and set with sparkling china. Candles nestled in evergreen centerpieces decorated every table, and the snowy landscape was visible through picture windows running down both sides of the car. Above the windows, green garlands were draped, with gold and red ribbons adorning them and tying them in place. The car smelled of delicious, hearty food, and coffee. A violinist in the corner of the room played softly. Bass listened for a moment and realized that she was playing Christmas carols. 

A few of the tables were occupied, and he knew that the deal on the train was that you were encouraged to socialize, sit with strangers. But after a long day, he was not in the mood. He selected an empty table and sat. Immediately, a waiter appeared. 

“General Monroe, good evening,” he said respectfully. “What can I bring you?” 

“Just a coffee,” he said. “Thanks.” The man nodded, slipping away, reappearing almost instantly with the pot. The hot liquid in the cup warmed Bass’ hand in the slightly chilly air. Bass sipped the coffee, black, and closed his eyes in ecstasy. The train had been nice so far, but this was heaven. Real coffee. It had been far too long. 

Settling back in his chair, he took the opportunity to observe the people around him, a habit by now. The table nearest to him had two occupants. As far as he could tell, they were octogenarians. Impressive, these days, but it was unlikely either of them was a Patriot spy. The woman was draped in a complicated array of furs and jewelry. The man was hunched over his plate, seemingly communing with his dinner. Bass smirked. Good for them. 

A few tables down, three younger people sat together, a man and two women. Military-age, Bass noted with interest. This was more like it. The man was leaned back in his chair, exuding arrogance. His hair was combed high off his face, and he was wearing a formal jacket and tie. The woman next to him was gazing at him adoringly. The woman who had her back to Bass had tightly-curled black hair, but Bass couldn’t see much else. He tried to study them without being noticed, but it seemed they sensed his eyes on them. The man made a comment, and the curly-haired woman turned around, not bothering to be subtle, her eyes pinning Bass. 

Immediately, she got to her feet and made a beeline for his table, tossing an excuse to her companions as she went. Bass followed her approach with his eyes, unable to help noticing she was gorgeous. Curvy, with big brown eyes and full lips. Not that he was in the market, but he wasn’t blind. She wore a shiny black dress that clung to her body, and high heels that she moved in effortlessly, even with the motion of the train. She had the air of someone who walked through the world expecting it to cater to her every whim. 

The woman stopped at his table. “Any of these free?” she asked in a husky alto, slightly accented. Bass couldn’t place it yet. He gestured for her to sit, and she poured herself into the chair across from him. Looking for the waiter, she asked Bass, “You eating dinner?” 

He hadn’t planned to, but now that she mentioned it, he was hungry. “Sure,” he answered shortly, waiting for her to say more. Why had she come over to him? Was she just a third wheel looking for a good time?

The waiter hurried over, and the woman informed him that they would both like dinner. Once he’d gone, she turned her attention back to Bass. 

“I hope you don’t think I’m totally crazy,” she said, and finally Bass placed her accent. Cuban. Or, more to the point, Patriot. This woman had been raised in Cuba post-Blackout, he was suddenly certain of it. She was about Charlie’s age, which meant she would have spent most of her life on the island. He remembered what Charlie said about a Patriot spy being a woman, and suddenly this encounter had far more significance. 

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m never one to complain about beautiful company.” 

She grinned at that. “Direct, aren’t you? I guess I should return the favor.” She leaned forward and said to him in a stage whisper, “I know who you are.” 

The easy smile on his face froze somewhat. “Is that right?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she affirmed. “General Sebastian Monroe. Former president of the Monroe Republic. Current general for the Texas Union.” 

He dipped his head in confirmation. “The one and only. Not that I’m hard to find.” 

“No, not at all,” she agreed. “But I bet I know more about you than most people on this train.” 

Bass thought of Charlie, who knew him inside and out. “How’s that?” 

“Well,” she lowered her voice confidentially. “My father was a Patriot officer. You probably guessed that by now.” Bass showed no reaction. “Anyway, he was quite an admirer of yours. Always spoke of you. What word we got of you, and the Republic, down in Cuba impressed him.” 

No wonder, Bass thought. Some of his more ruthless methods would certainly have appealed to the Patriots. “A Patriot officer. Huh. He knows I eventually fought on the other side, right?” 

The woman rolled her eyes. “Yes, he was aware. But tactics are tactics. And you were good.” Her eyes sparked mischievously. “Might be, still, I don’t know.” 

“Fortunately haven’t had much chance to find out lately,” he replied, watching her reaction. The way she spoke betrayed more familiarity with military strategy than he’d expect. “So if you’re Patriot, how did you end up here?” 

"Daddy’s unit got overtaken at Dallas. But, me being just an innocent bystander and all, I was able to appeal to the Union to take pity on me.” Bass thought that this woman was anything but an innocent bystander. “In fact, one of their officers took a special interest in me and brought me back to D.C. to marry him.” 

“So where is he now?” Bass asked, though he had a hunch about the answer. 

“Oh, it didn’t work out,” the woman said dismissively. “He wasn’t really for me. Much too young. I like a man with a bit more … maturity. A guy who knows how to get around in the world. And knows his way around a woman.” She raked her gaze over him suggestively. 

Bass had to crack a smile at that. This woman was so obvious, she practically had a neon sign over her head flashing, “Daddy issues!” Still, it was nice to be appreciated. “So now it’s back to Texas?” he asked, steering the conversation to safer ground. 

“Yes, sir,” she confirmed. “I have some unfinished business in Dallas. I’m Tina, by the way.” 

“Nice to meet you. And who are your friends?” He nodded toward the couple at the table. 

Tina glanced over her shoulder. “Not friends,” she clarified. “Their story is unbelievable, though.” 

Bass made a mental note. Unbelievable stories were often unbelievable for a reason. Because they were bullshit. “Why’s that?” 

“They’re here from England,” Tina reported. “It sounds crazy, but I think it’s true. You know the ships are taking people all the time now, not just military, and it sounds like things are pretty bad over there. They were really well off, but they decided they wanted to start over in America. So they’re actually headed all the way to California.” 

“Wow,” Bass said. If that was true, he had a new level of respect for the duo. They’d all had to start over after the Blackout, and it had been hell. He couldn’t imagine doing it again, voluntarily. 

The door at the end of the dining car slid open, and their waiter stepped through, carefully balancing their dinner on a silver tray. The door at the other end of the car opened a second later, and Charlie stepped through. She looked stunning, Bass thought, in a simple, structured dress. He swore he’d seen it on Rachel before, which was a little off-putting, but unlike the Ice Queen, Charlie's body filled out the dress in all the right places. 

They made eye contact, and Charlie quickly glanced between Bass and his companion, her expression clearly conveying her thoughts: Seriously?

As the waiter fussily arranged the food and their utensils around them, Charlie slid into the seat next to Bass. She and Tina met each other’s eyes, and Charlie’s held a challenge. Bass smothered a smile. He was already going to hell, he reasoned, so if he was enjoying this little scenario more than he should, well, God could just add it to his ledger. 

The waiter exclaimed his apologies for not bringing Charlie a plate, as well, and hustled off to get one. Once he was gone, Charlie immediately spoke up, “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“You’re fine,” Bass said, at the same time Tina replied, “Oh no, we were just getting started.” 

“I’m Tina,” she added. “I’ve been an admirer of General Monroe’s for years. Imagine my excitement when I found out he would be on the train with us.” 

“Thrilling,” Charlie commented. 

“You didn’t tell me you were here with someone,” she said flirtatiously to Bass. “Now I feel like my hand has been caught in the cookie jar!” 

Bass looked over at Charlie, waiting for her cue as to how they would play this. They’d done plenty of operations where it had been beneficial to pretend to be a couple. This one could be no different. 

Sure enough, Charlie said nothing to correct Tina’s interpretation of the situation, replying only, “No problem. I had just been laying down for a little while.” Gesturing at their plates, she added, “Go ahead and eat, don’t let the food get cold. Mine’ll be here in a minute.” 

Bass speared a forkful of fish. On impulse, he held it up, offering it to Charlie. With a devilish expression, she opened her mouth and took the bite from him. Bass’ breath caught as he watched her plump lips moving over the smooth silver of the fork, capturing every morsel. Jesus Christ. That was enough of that. Charlie chewed smugly, and Tina pretended not to notice, concentrating on her own meal. 

Bass turned to his food, feeling a sudden burst of happiness. He was really enjoying spending time with Charlie like this, loved how unpredictable she could be. He’d never been so glad that Miles was whipped. With Charlie taking his place, this trip had already a lot better than Bass ever would have hoped for.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that night, Charlie made her way to the bar car, which was about a half a dozen cars down from theirs, the opposite direction from the dining car. She had to go through the third-class berths to get there, and the bar was clearly intended more for those passengers. She could have ordered a drink in the dining room, she knew, but she was in the mood for something more laid back. Something more like what she was used to. She’d pulled out the leather jacket that she’d sneaked into her bag and put it on over her fancy dinner dress. So what if her mom would kill her if she knew? She wasn’t here, and Charlie wanted to feel like herself. 

Dinner had been beyond weird. Charlie had been surprised by her own reaction to walking in on Bass sitting with that Tina woman, who looked like she wanted to eat him alive. Of course Charlie knew that Bass dated and slept with plenty of women in D.C. They were always kind of hanging around. But to see it happening when Bass was supposed to be traveling with her somehow had brought out a possessive streak she had not been expecting. It had reminded Charlie of the time they met Duncan in New Vegas, so long ago. She'd let the other woman think that she and Bass were a couple, then, too. Charlie tried not to speculate too much on why that might have been. 

Definitely no speculating, she commanded herself, thinking of the intense, hungry expression that had stolen over Bass’ face when she took his bite of food. She had just been messing around, but his reaction had made her feel like a hell of a seductress. And intensely aroused, suddenly aware of his closeness to her for the rest of the meal, her nerves jangling whenever their legs or arms brushed against each other. With Tina watching the whole time, there was nothing more to it, but it was enough. Charlie needed some breathing room, so as soon as the meal was over, she’d left the two of them and escaped to their room for a few hours, then gone in search of booze. She had no idea what Bass was doing with himself and told herself she didn’t care. 

The bar car was dark compared to the bright lanterns and chandeliers in the dining car. The only lights came from tea lights in thick, drunk-proof glass votives on the bar and the moonlight flooding through the windows. The train was well south of D.C., traveling through the southern end of the Appalachian Mountains, and she could just make out the shadowy landscape through the narrow windows high on the wall. 

It was crowded, and Charlie hadn’t managed to get a seat. She wedged herself between two groups at the bar and ordered her go-to, whiskey neat. For a few minutes she stood alone, but she never had to wait long for company at a bar. Tonight was no exception. A tall guy with a shaved head sidled up to her. Charlie met his eyes and gave him a half-smile that was all the invitation he needed. 

“I can’t figure you out,” he started. “Your dress says first-class, but your jacket says, what the hell am I doing on this train? So which is it?” 

The guy was observant, she’d give him that. “The jacket is me,” Charlie confessed. “I’m just playing dress-up for a few days.” 

“Lucky for us,” the guy said, looking her over appreciatively. “I’m Duke.” 

“Charlie,” she said. She noted the guy’s powerful build, obvious in his well-worn jeans and t-shirt. She hadn’t exactly been looking to hook up with anyone, but if Bass could chat up Miss Patriot Princess, Charlie could certainly amuse herself however she chose. “While we’re analyzing clothing choices, I take it you won’t be joining us for white-glove service in the dining room?” 

Duke laughed. “That’s a no, ma’am. Prefer to stay among my own kind.” 

“And exactly what ‘kind’ is that?” 

“Actually, it’s usually horses. But I do make some exceptions, including for gorgeous women.” Charlie looked at him quizzically, and he explained, “I bust broncs for a living. Take wild horses and train ‘em up. Tame ‘em. Break ‘em.” He flashed a knowing grin. “It’s a skill that comes in handy in other areas, too.” 

“Uh huh," Charlie said, ignoring the obvious line. “So why are you heading down to Texas? Horses?” 

“Absolutely. I’ve got a client with a major ranch down there that he wants to stock. Paid for my trip and everything,” he said proudly. “Nice thing about being unattached, I can just pick up and go whenever I want.” 

“Yeah, that works,” Charlie agreed, knowing where he was going with this. 

“What about you, Charlie?” he asked. “You got anyone waiting for you in Texas?” 

“Not like that,” she replied, failing to mention that if she had an “anyone,” he was right there on the train. “I’m going to visit my uncle Aaron for the holidays. Well, he’s not really my uncle, but he was my dad’s best friend, so he practically is. Anyway, he and his wife stayed in Willoughby after the war, so I’m spending Christmas with them.” 

“Nice,” Duke commented. “They do it up big for Christmas?” 

Charlie thought of what Aaron had described in his letters to her. “Yeah, sounds like it. Aaron never does anything halfway if he can help it, he was like a billionaire before the Blackout. So it sounds like they got the biggest Christmas tree they could find, and he told me I’m really going to like my presents. Oh and they got a ton of food brought in from all over the Union, like fig candy and ham and cakes and stuff. He’s a big food guy. So yeah, should be pretty good.” 

“Damn, sounds amazing. Any chance I could get an invite?” Duke teased her. 

Laughing, Charlie replied, “Um, I just met you. You’re going to have to work a little harder than that for an invite to the Pittman Family Christmas.” 

“As if I needed anymore motivation to impress you,” he replied. “Guess I better get to work.” 

“Guess so,” Charlie said. 

“Well if you like feats of daring and bravery, which who doesn’t, let me tell you about the time I rode a wild horse off the edge of a cliff…” Duke began, launching into a story. 

They talked through several rounds of drinks. Charlie felt herself getting tipsy. She knew it was probably reckless to let her guard down around this virtual stranger, but she never minded being reckless. Plus, somehow, the fact of knowing that Bass was on the train somewhere made her feel safe, like nothing could happen to her. He had rescued her so many times, in so many unlikely and extraordinary situations. If this took a turn, Charlie knew, he would be there. 

Charlie was laughing hard at another one of Duke’s ridiculous stories, holding his hand, looking for the spot on the back of it where he swore she would still be able to see the edge of a hoofprint if she looked hard enough, when she felt it. The air around her seemed to shift, and her sixth sense told her: Bass was there. It had been that way for a while, the connection between them, her ability to sense his presence. Usually at work or her parents’ house, it didn’t have much of an effect. Here, it left her suddenly breathless. She dropped Duke’s hand and looked around quickly. 

Sure enough, Charlie caught sight of Bass across the room, just entering the car. He’d changed clothes for his foray into third class, too, into his jeans and weathered jacket. Even his hair looked more like usual, slightly mussed, and his expression was surely one she’d seen many times before. Cautious, taking in the scene, but mostly pissed off. He saw her, too, and immediately made his way toward them. Charlie noticed how the crowd parted for Bass, how people did double takes and whispered as he squeezed through the packed room. She’d forgotten how sexy it was that he was instantly recognizable, and feared. In the circles they traveled in in D.C., everyone was used to being around him. Out in the rest of the world, he still commanded a certain respect. 

Bass reached the bar near them but didn’t acknowledge them right away, first addressing the bartender, ordering his drink. Only then did he turn to Charlie. Duke, who had been watching her watch Bass but still trying to maintain the conversation, fell silent. “Charlie,” Bass greeted her. “There you are.” 

“Oh, were you looking for me?” she said, the alcohol letting the words flow freely. “I thought you might have been tied up with something else. Or someone.” 

“You two know each other,” Duke stated, though it should have been a question. 

“Yeah,” Bass said, his eyes still on Charlie. “We know each other.” To her, he said, “You okay?” 

“Don’t worry about me, Bass,” she chided him. “Duke here was just telling me alllll about wild horses. Perfectly safe. Besides I knew if something bad happened, you would just swoop in and saaave me again.” Her voice had taken on a singsong lilt, and she knew she was playing with fire as a storm gathered in Bass’ eyes. But she wanted to provoke him. Even though she'd been expecting him to track her down, now that he was here, she was embarrassed at having had so much to drink. Tired of him treating her like a ward rather than an equal. And most of all, wondering where the hell he had been for the last few hours, and whether he’d been with that woman. 

“Hey, man, I didn’t know she was with you,” Duke offered, clearly seeing Bass’ anger and misinterpreting who it was directed at. “We were just talking.” 

“Is that right,” Bass said flatly. “Well, I think Charlie’s done enough talking for tonight. Haven’t you, sweetheart?” The endearing nickname was laced with poison. 

Charlie knew she should listen to him. But that didn’t mean she had to go quietly. “Yes, General,” she agreed mockingly. “As you command.”

Bass’ expression tightened at that, but he ignored the jibe, pulling her nearly-empty glass out of her hand and setting it on the bar. “Goodnight, Duke,” he said. “Better luck next time.” Duke knew better than to respond, watching them go without even a goodbye to Charlie. “Bye, Duke,” she called over her shoulder as Bass moved her toward the door, his hand surprisingly gentle on her back as he guided her through the crowd and back toward their cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie and Bass made their way through the various cars, the journey more challenging than it had been when she first made it, owing in part to her inebriation and in part to the passengers having gone to sleep, their feet, elbows, and bags sticking into the aisles. She was hyper-aware of Bass behind her the entire time, keeping her moving, reaching around her to open the doors between cars. 

The train turned suddenly around a sharp corner, and Charlie stumbled backward into Bass. Immediately, his arms folded around her, holding her upright, and Charlie’s hormones rioted at the feeling of his strong body against hers. She took a beat longer than she should have to regain her footing and continue walking. 

Finally, they reached their cabin. Bass opened the door for her and let her go in first. Immediately, Charlie kicked off the heels she’d been wearing and groaned with relief as her feet assumed their normal shape. She heard Bass close and lock the door behind them as she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it onto the desk. Then she reached back to unzip her dress, suddenly very ready to be out of the constricting garment and asleep in her bed. She twisted her arm back and found the zipper, but she couldn’t get the leverage to pull it down. It had been hard enough getting the thing on by herself, sober, which itself had practically required a contortionist act. This was impossible. Growling with frustration, Charlie tried to pull her arms through the sleeves, but the material was too constricting. After a few seconds, she gave up, and looked behind her at Bass. He was standing motionless by the door, his jacket still on, watching her, waiting. 

“Can you help me with this, please?” she asked, gesturing, hating to have to ask him. Wordlessly, he stepped forward, looming tall behind her, and she turned to face straight. She felt him grip the zipper pull, his fingers never grazing her neck. Carefully, he lowered it, making sure it didn’t snag, holding the fabric in place with his other hand, warm through her dress against the skin of her back. Charlie felt her body flush with arousal at having him so close, touching her so intimately. She had just needed to get the damn dress off, but she suddenly realized that Bass was undressing her. Something she had thought about many times. Wanted, for a long time. 

When he was done and the zipper was open, she felt him step back, but not as far as before, still close enough that she could feel him behind her. Charlie knew she could touch him just by leaning back slightly, but she didn’t. But she also didn’t move away. Instead, without saying a word, without looking back at Bass, she pushed her dress slowly off her shoulders, pulling her arms out of the sleeves. When Bass didn’t react, didn’t stop her, she kept going, tugging it down her front, revealing her torso. With a deep breath for bravery, she then pushed it down off her hips, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her standing in just her bra and panties, her back toward Bass. 

She could have stopped there and gone to bed that way, in her underwear. But a wild impulse took over her. She wanted Bass. The alcohol was making her bold, but the desire had been there for as long as she could remember knowing him. Here, in this small cabin, together, away from the rest of the world, her need for him was suddenly overwhelming. 

Reaching behind her, Charlie unhooked her bra, letting it hang open for a couple seconds for dramatic effect, then pulling the straps down her arms and off, tossing her bra to the side, onto the floor. The cool air of the room hit her breasts, which suddenly felt hot. She ran her cool hands over them, soothing her skin, relishing the feeling of their being free. Her nipples tightened in response to the stimulation and the temperature. Charlie could swear she heard Bass breathe in heavily behind her. 

Charlie straightened her back, hooking her thumbs at the waistband of her underwear. She was hopelessly aroused at this point, conscious thought having flown out the window. She was operating on pure sensation as she pulled the lacy fabric down over her ass, pausing momentarily with them right below her cheeks, then working them the rest of the way down. As she did, she bent over, slightly exposing her needy, wet pussy to the air. She could feel Bass’ gaze like a caress on her body as she got naked for him. Standing up straight, she stood slightly on her tiptoes and stepped carefully out of her panties, puddled on the floor, the last step in her slow-motion strip tease. Charlie stood that way for several moments, waiting, feeling the tension vibrating in the air, feeling every nerve in her body come alive, screaming for Bass’ touch. 

Just as she started to turn around, to face Bass, to let come what may, she sensed him moving swiftly behind her. Charlie felt a gust of air as he opened the door to the cabin, then before she could blink, she heard the door slam. The spell broken, she whirled around. Bass was gone. 

* * *

Bass’ heart was racing as he forced himself to walk down the corridor, away from Cabin 8. He reached the common bathroom at the end of the car and dove into it like it was a lifeboat, locking the door. It was a single-occupant setup, and he was alone. Thank God. He leaned against the wall and gripped the knob in one hand, physically restraining himself from going back to the cabin. To Charlie. Charlie who was drunk, and naked, and so obviously ready for him. He breathed in and out deliberately, trying to calm down.

He wanted her. God, how he wanted her, his rock-hard erection straining against the front of his pants evidence enough. Fuck. But not like this. Not with her being tipsy and impulsive. If it was going to happen between them, he needed her clear-eyed and sober. He was twice her age, not to mention her commanding officer. And all the other shit, the endless reasons she shouldn’t want him. He needed her to choose it, choose him, fully aware of what she was doing. So he’d mustered every shred of self-restraint and decency he possessed and walked the hell out of that room. 

Without allowing himself to think twice, Bass quickly undid his pants, pulling out his hard, aching cock. Charlie had just stripped down naked for him, her body practically vibrating with invitation, with need. For him. Biting his lip, closing his eyes, Bass began to stroke slowly, trying to allow himself at least the dignity of not coming immediately. He was leaking precum like crazy, his body desperate to be inside Charlie, to fill her up. He smeared it across the head of his cock, groaning softly at the sensation. His mind replayed the memory of Charlie stripping for him, the moment her bra dropped off her body and he could just see the pink flesh of her nipples over the curve of her breast. The moment she dropped her panties, her moist pussy opening to him as she bent forward. He could swear he had seen her juices glistening in the moonlight coming through the windows of the cabin. 

It would have been so easy to put his hands on her hips at that moment, to walk her forward so her hands were braced on the wall. He would have nudged her legs apart with his knee, enjoying her being naked and spread open for him while he was still fully dressed. He would have wasted no time, pulling his cock out, stroking the hard tip of it against her wet folds. And he would have pushed into her, her needy, hot pussy gripping him tight. Bass stroked himself faster, imagining it. He’d have reached around her as he pumped into her, fondling her firm tits, making her gasp by stroking and pinching her nipples. They were both so worked up, it wouldn’t take long...

Bass’ cock grew harder in his hand as he neared completion, imagining himself burying his cock over and over in Charlie’s heat, her gasping with ecstasy beneath him. She would beg him to give it to her harder, faster, and goddamnit he would, until she was crying out his name, her pussy clenching around him as she came… Bass climaxed hard and intensely, catching his come in his hand on instinct, groaning deeply as he finished. 

For several moments, he just caught his breath, leaning limply against the bathroom door, his spent cock in his hand. Finally, he was able to move and got himself cleaned up. He was almost disgusted with himself. It had been longer than he could remember since he had jacked off to a woman so urgently. But he hadn’t been able to help himself, and at least he had calmed down. His body was no longer roaring at him to go back and finish what Charlie had started. 

Eventually, he collected himself enough to go back to the cabin, somewhat worried about what he would find there, not sure he would have the strength to resist Charlie twice if it came to that. To his immense relief, he saw the shadowy outline of Charlie in the upper bunk, her deep, even breathing telling him she was asleep, the slight scent of sex in the air telling him that she’d had to relieve some frustration of her own. Bass changed into his sleep clothes and climbed into bed himself, wondering what the hell the morning would bring.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie woke up naked in her bed.  Not unusual, she often slept naked at home.  But she was cold. She made a mental note to have the porter restock the small oven in their room with hot coals.  As she gradually awoke, the hazy memories of everything that had happened last night came flooding back.  She had stripped down in front of Bass.  And he had run away like she was a hive of angry bees. Or just completely hideous.  How the hell was she supposed to face him?

Deep down, she was pretty sure Bass didn’t find her hideous.  He was hard to read, but she knew that much.  From over a year of heated glances and thick sexual tension, not to mention that one kiss by the campfire… she was pretty sure the problem wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive.  Still, his actions the night before did raise a small doubt.

Thinking of Bass, Charlie recalled the authoritative way he had led her out of the bar. His pissed off, jealous expression when he caught her drinking with another man. The way his hands had felt on her body as he unzipped her dress… Charlie felt the heat of arousal flush through her. She had gone to bed frustrated the night before, her quick self-delivered orgasm doing almost nothing to satisfy her.  Now, in the thin light of morning, she wanted him just as badly. Unthinkingly, she reached her hand down between her legs, quickly stroking through the slick moisture there, finding some relief but wanting more still.

Then she heard Bass shifting around on the bed beneath her, and she snapped out of it, pulling her hand up guiltily. Shit. She hadn’t realized he was there, hadn’t really thought about it. He must have heard her moving, too, because suddenly she heard the metallic clink of a canteen against the side of the bunk, saw the lid peeking up just over the side.

“Thanks,” she muttered as she took it.  Charlie unscrewed the top and drank, the first few sips slaking her thirst, the rest waking her up and refreshing her. She hated to admit it, but one or the other of them got drunk often enough that it was a routine: whoever had been more coherent the night before usually made a point of making sure the other one got water first thing in the morning. Clearly, last night, the drunk one had been her. She finished the bottle and set it to the side in the bed.

What to do now? Though she’d bravely undressed in front of Bass the day before, she felt like everything had changed. And she was still stark naked underneath her blankets. She didn’t even consider asking Bass to leave. That wasn’t what she wanted.

Frowning, she rolled to first one side, then the other, wrapping her blanket as tightly around her as she could. Then she kicked her legs over the side of the bed and slithered off the edge like a woolen snake, moving in one awkward column and landing hard on the floor. The motion of the train nearly knocked her off her feet, but she managed to stay upright, wrapped in her makeshift garment.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to Bass, who was laying in his bed, reading. Shirtless, she noted with annoyance. Did everyone in this cabin have to be wearing the minimum amount of clothes? His hair was mussed, his eyes still somewhat bleary. It seemed he hadn’t been awake long.

“Morning.” Bass glanced up at her briefly, then did a double take when he saw her wrapped in her bedsheets. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Charlie said, eyeing her suitcase, contemplating how to get her clothes out of it without letting the blanket drop. “Sorry about last night.” She leaned toward her bag, reaching out awkwardly to unzip it, pinning the blanket to her body with her elbow. She couldn’t quite get the leverage she needed, and she felt her frustration rising.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” A pause. “What are you doing?”

Charlie had turned her bag the other direction, now, and was trying to push the zipper away from her to get it open. At his question, she turned around impatiently. “I am TRYING to get my bag open so I can get my clothes out,” she informed him.

“Okay, but why are you…” he set the book aside and gestured at her. “Do you want me to go?”

“No!” Charlie exclaimed. For some reason, she really didn’t. “I just thought I’d try to get dressed without exposing myself to you. I wouldn’t want you to have to run out of the room to get away from me. Again.”

Bass’ face softened with understanding. “Charlie, come on. I wasn’t running away from you.”

“Oh really?” she said, trying to sound sarcastic, hating the insecurity and humiliation in her voice. “Kinda seemed like it.”

“I mean, I was, but…” Bass ran his hand over his face, seemingly looking for the words. “You were drunk. It wouldn’t have been right.”

Charlie’s heart leapt at this admission. What was he saying? That if she wasn’t drunk… suddenly, she very much wanted to find out exactly where Bass was drawing the line.

“I’m not drunk now,” she pointed out.

Bass half-smiled. “No, I can see that you’re not.” His eyes suddenly held an intense expression.

“So you’re saying if I were to…” Charlie let the blanket fall halfway down her breasts, just above her nipples. Bass’ eyes immediately went to her cleavage where her arms were pushing her breasts together. “Do this… you wouldn’t mind?”

Bass’ smile was gone, and he looked at her with a serious expression. Wordlessly, he shook his head. No, he wouldn’t mind.

“Hmmm.” Charlie felt a rush of power as Bass watched her in absolute fascination. Her heart was pounding, her skin felt hot. Goddamnit, all she wanted was for him to touch her, but based on last night, she had to play this very, very carefully. Slowly, she let the blanket drop all the way to her waist, where she held it in place. Her breasts were now fully exposed, and Bass’ mouth dropped open slightly. “How about this?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Bass responded almost reflexively, then licked his lips. He didn’t look like he was about to run away. Holding the blanket in place with one hand, she ran her other hand up her side to cup her breast gently, running her thumb over the nipple, agonizingly softly. She needed his touch, rough and needy on her body. Fuck, she was tired of waiting.

Charlie took the small step forward that it took to cover the distance between herself and Bass’ bed. He was now half-sitting-up, propped on one elbow. Charlie stopped right at the edge of his bed. “Touch me, Bass,” she said, not sure what she’d do if he refused. Beg, probably.

He didn’t refuse. Bass narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking into her face. She met his gaze with steady determination, her breath coming fast with arousal. Seemingly satisfied, he reached for her. Charlie had expected him to grab her, to pull her down on top of him and have his way with her. She should have known Bass better than that.

Instead, his fingertips lightly brushed the skin of her stomach, right next to her belly button, her muscles tensing instinctively underneath them. Slowly, he caressed her skin, moving upward inexorably but with no hurry. His touch skated across her rib cage, and she inhaled sharply. It didn’t tickle, exactly, it was just… this somehow felt more intimate than anything she’d experienced before, and he hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff.

Bass continued his exploration of her torso, his fingers tracing the path of her ribs inward toward her sternum, then up between her breasts. She wanted to hold her breath, but couldn’t. Finally, he traced his fingers along the full curve of her breast, then palmed it, and she leaned into him. His fingers closed over the warm, soft flesh of her nipple, pinching her not hard, but firmly enough to let her know he meant it. She hissed with arousal as intense sensation shot through her body, straight to her clit and back. Bass continued to roll her nipple between his fingers expertly, and she quickly tucked the blanket to hold itself in place at her waist so she could grasp the edge of the bunk for support. God, it felt so good. How could it feel so good when he was just barely touching her?

Quickly, Bass sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed, effortlessly moving her with his fighter’s grace so she was standing between them. Without hesitation, he moved his hands to her waist and closed his mouth around her tortured nipple, causing her to cry out in pleasure. He licked and sucked her, then moved to her other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand, teasing her into frantic need. “Bass,” she begged.

Immediately, he stopped and looked up, his eyes hooded and hazy with arousal. Reading her face, he continued caressing her breast, but gently again, as he asked, “What do you want, Charlie?”

She pushed her hips toward him, her thighs pressing between his legs, hoping nonverbal communication would suffice. Bass shook his head, then lowered his mouth almost to her breast. “Tell me,” he commanded, before taking her nipple into his mouth again, causing her knees to nearly buckle. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling his hair slightly as he suckled at her. She wasn’t sure if she was pulling him away or pushing him closer.

“Bass, I want you, please,” she cried out. As soon as she said it, Bass stood up, backing her into the dresser. Charlie loved this, how tall and strong he was, standing before her, his expression one of predatory intent. Wasting no time, he lowered his head and kissed her. Charlie kissed him back desperately, her mouth open to his, her arms pulling him closer. God, he smelled so good, all his exposed skin now overwhelming her.

As they kissed again and again, both of them breathing hard, Bass reached down between them where she had the blanket around her. Impatiently he tugged at it until it released, then pulled it off and tossed it aside.  Charlie widened her stance in invitation, not caring how wanton she seemed.

Bass ran his fingers between her legs, groaning when he felt how wet she was. Charlie felt her climax building as he touched her exactly as she would touch herself, but somehow better, more. Bass circled around her entrance, then back up over her clit, in a delectable but infuriating pattern, never going inside, not quite concentrating on her clit enough to let her come. Charlie leaned back against the dresser and just rode the wave of sensation, gasping for air as he worked her. Bass kissed and licked her neck, collarbone, breast, as his fingers played magic below, and all she could do was feel. Her orgasm crested and crashed through her, her legs spasming, her body trembling, and Bass held her firm with one arm, while he stroked her through it, wringing the last soft flutters of pleasure out of her once it was over.

“Oh my god,” Charlie breathed when she was able. “Oh my god.” She had lost the capacity for rational thought. Bass looked down at her, not obviously gloating, but she knew him well enough to see the smugness in his eyes. She couldn’t even be mad. That was the most amazing orgasm she’d ever had. And he hadn’t even been inside her. Yet.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Charlie’s climax, far from sating her desire, had only intensified it. She was now completely naked, but Bass was not. That wouldn’t do. Charlie ran her hands over Bass’ abs, his pecs, relishing the feeling of hard muscle, better even than her many fantasies. She leaned forward and kissed and nibbled at his neck as she moved her hands to undo his pants, and Bass hummed in satisfaction, his head falling back slightly.

Charlie untied the drawstring and reached inside, running her hand over Bass’ hard cock. “Fuck,” she heard him sigh as her hand closed around him, pumping him slowly, exploring his size and weight. God, he was perfect. With her other hand, Charlie pushed Bass’ pants off his hips, and they fell to the ground, leaving him naked, too. She continued to stroke him lightly, then looked up at Bass to see his reaction. When her eyes met his, Bass kissed her hard, plunging his tongue into her mouth, moving his pelvis into her hand in sync. Charlie squeezed him with just a bit more pressure, and he groaned.

She wanted to taste him. Pushing him back slightly so she had room to kneel, Charlie got to her knees in front of Bass, holding his cock in one hand and taking the head into her mouth. How badly she had wanted this. Bass, naked and at her mercy, his cock in her mouth, him desperate for her to give him pleasure, her deciding whether she wanted to comply. In her fantasies, she always tortured him a bit, blew on him, licked him lightly. But here and now, she just wanted him so badly, she took him as deep into her mouth as she could, plunging his cock into the back of her throat. And again, and again, until her cock was covered with her spit and she could taste the saltiness of his precum on her tongue. He was getting desperately hard, his hands resting in her hair as she sucked him.

When she sensed he was almost going to come, Charlie pulled back and stood up. Bass pulled her tight to him and kissed her, then stepped away, lying down on his bunk on top of the sheets, motioning she should join him. Charlie took a beat to appreciate the sight of Bass laid out naked before her, and apparently he didn’t appreciate her hesitation, as he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him.

Cautiously, so she didn’t hit her head, Charlie slid into the bunk, on top of Bass, savoring the feel of him, strong and hard beneath her. She braced her arms on his chest and situated her legs on either side of his hips, the ridge of his cock pressing into her wet folds, hot, insistent. She hummed in pleasure and rubbed herself against him, spreading her slickness along his length, reveling in the friction against her aroused pussy. Fuck, he felt so good, and this simulated fucking--almost, but not quite there--was exquisite torture. From Bass’ grunts of pleasure and his hand gripping more and more tightly on her hip, directing her movement, she could tell he was feeling it, too.

Finally, Charlie raised herself up slightly further, and as seamlessly and as naturally as taking a breath, Charlie took Bass’ cock inside her. “God,” she moaned as he stretched her, filling her, and Bass held her down firmly on top of him for a moment before letting her continue her languid movement, now riding his cock in earnest, pulling almost completely off him before sinking back down again, widening her legs to let him in further, to press her clit into the base of his cock.

“Fuck,” Bass groaned as she rode him. “Charlie.” His voice was ragged, desperate. She made a small mewling sound in response, unable to form words, concentrating solely on the feeling of Bass inside her, fucking her, at last. It was so much better than she had ever imagined. He was perfect. This was perfect. She felt another orgasm building, and she surrendered herself to sensation, chasing her pleasure until finally it broke over her. She cried out as her body shook with her climax.  As she came down, slowly, she felt herself ceding control to Bass. Pleasure softened her limbs, and she laid across him and took it as he slammed his cock up into her, more and more urgently.

Suddenly, Bass’ arms were around her, rolling them over, positioning her beneath him, caging her between his arms, the scarred skin where his M tattoo once was visible out of the corner of her eye. He looked at her for confirmation--this was okay?--and she responded by arching her back, pushing him deeper inside her where they were joined--yes, don’t stop, yes. Staying ducked low under the confines of the upper bunk, he thrust into her with relentless need, now pinning her beneath his body, working his cock into her desperately. This was what being fucked by General Monroe felt like, Charlie thought deliriously. Like plunder and savagery and debauchery. Charlie was struck by the sight of his beautiful face showing raw pleasure, his normal stoicism abandoned to ecstasy.

He moved one hand to her ass, opening her to him, and she hiked her leg up further onto his hip, around his back. He liked that, growling appreciatively, and Charlie felt him even deeper inside, gasping as he thrust into her harder and faster. Bass grunted under his breath as he came, pushing his cock into her, pulsing inside her, spending all his come deep inside her body.

Charlie felt Bass collapse on top of her, a welcome dead weight, and she trailed her fingers idly across his back as he breathed deeply into her neck, contentment coming off of him in waves. Before too long, he rolled off of her, pulling her to his chest instead, pressing his lips into her hair. Charlie couldn’t stop touching him, her fingers dancing over his chest, his shoulder, his forearm. Bass caught her hand and pressed his palm into hers, lining their fingers up, then holding her hand and pulling it into his chest.

They lied like that for a while, neither of them speaking. There were a hundred things Charlie wanted to say, but at the same time, she didn’t know where to begin. If she knew Bass, she suspected he felt the same. She wasn’t sure which of them was more careful when it came to opening themselves up to another person. Even after what they’d just done. Sex was one thing. What it meant… that was something she wasn’t quite ready to face.

Instead, finally, Charlie said, “I’m hungry.”

Bass raised his head slightly to look at her. “Yeah? Want me to go get something from the dining car?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah.” Bass shifted her to the side near the wall and slid out of the bed, standing up. Charlie had to admire the view of his still-impressive, softening cock and strong thighs that were right at eye level. Damn. To her mild dismay, he pulled on clothes and shoes. He still looked disheveled and thoroughly fucked, not quite up to dining car standards. Charlie supposed he was put together enough to grab food and leave.

“Back in a bit,” Bass said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Not sure I could walk even if I wanted to,” Charlie commented, and she could see the pride in Bass' smirk as he walked out the door. Well, it was true--she could already feel a pleasant ache settling into her most intimate places, a delicious reminder of what they’d just done.

Once Bass was gone, Charlie noticed again how cold the room had gotten. She thought that she should have told Bass to get more coals for the heater before he left. Oh, well. Charlie slipped under the blankets of Bass’ bed, but she still found herself shivering. Glancing around the room, she saw the discarded blanket she’d been wearing to cover herself. She leaned over to grab it, when she saw Bass’ leather jacket shoved part-way under the bed.

She hesitated for only a moment, then picked it up. It was probably ridiculous for her to feel so excited about wearing Bass’ jacket, but she was sure he wouldn’t mind. Especially since she was otherwise naked while wearing it. She sat up to pull it on, wrapping it tightly around herself -- it overlapped almost completely over her front, being much too big for her. And oh fuck, it smelled like him, and like the hundreds of campfires he’d worn it next to. Charlie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

Lying down, Charlie got back under the blankets and grinned at the thought of Bass coming back to find her in his jacket. Her guess was that she probably wouldn’t end up wearing it for too long. She rubbed her hands together for warmth, then ran them along her sides, searching for pockets, shoving her hands deep inside them when she found them. Inside one, she felt something hard and metallic and ran her fingers over it. She hadn’t been trying to snoop, but she couldn’t help but be curious about what Bass was carrying.

Charlie pulled the object out, and immediately her heart plummeted to her toes. No, she thought, her brain trying to reject the truth that was right before her eyes. No, it can’t be. Not this.

What Bass had in his pocket was a silver, teardrop shaped pendant, with a smaller teardrop shape imprinted in the middle, surrounded by lines.  The same kind of pendant that a power-obsessed Bass--no, General Monroe--had fought, tortured, and murdered for. The kind of pendant that could turn the lights back on, could allow jets to fly. Charlie’s hand shook as she stared at it in horror. What the hell was Bass doing with a pendant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sincere thank you for all the amazing notes, including the ones asking for updates--they help me get motivated to actually write rather than just plot things in my mind. You guys are the best. (And I hope two chapters at once makes up for the long wait!)


	9. Chapter 9

Bass strode down the corridor toward the dining car, fighting down a grin. So he’d just had mind-blowing, amazing sex with the woman he was crazy about. He could still act like he’d been there before, not like a lovestruck teenager. Besides, he was on a mission. To procure food for said woman. At that, he couldn’t help but smile slightly. Idiot, he chastised himself. You’re going to grab fruit from the dining room, not slay a dragon. 

The dining car was set for breakfast, not as lavishly as for dinner. The tables had no place settings, only the tablecloths and centerpieces.  An elaborate buffet was set out on the far side of the room.  There was a beautiful tower of fruit, sausages, eggs, and a few foods Bass hadn’t seen since the days of the Republic, like croissants and blueberry muffins. He grabbed a plate and started loading it up, positioning things strategically to maximize space. 

He was so intent on fitting a piece of toast between a pile of fried potatoes and a stack of sausage links that he barely registered the man who sidled up to him, until he spoke. “General Monroe,” he greeted Bass. 

Bass closed his eyes briefly in exasperation. Could he never get a break from this shit? Bass prayed he wouldn’t have to lay out the guy in the middle of the dining room. For one, he was hungry and wanted to eat first. He looked over and saw that it was the guy who had been with Charlie the night before. Great. The odds of this taking a turn had just increased exponentially. 

“Duke,” he replied shortly, pointedly turning back to the buffet. Which would Charlie like better, strawberry or grape jam? He decided to take a smaller spoonful of each, to cover his bases. 

“I recognized you, last night,” Duke boasted. “Didn’t want to say anything since it seemed like you were in a hurry.” 

“Appreciate that,” Bass muttered. 

“Yeah, you hustled Charlie out of there real fast,” Duke added. “What are you, her parole officer or something?” Bass didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. “Her father?” 

Okay, that stung. Damn this guy for intruding on his previously-good mood. He turned to Duke, finally tearing his attention away from buffet logistics. “Can I ask you something? How did you get in here, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be back in steerage?”

Duke laughed. “Yeah, I am, except I’m friends with the maitre d’, and he said I could grab breakfast real quick as long as I didn’t bother anyone.”

“Glad to see you’re as good as your word,” Bass grumbled, very much done with this conversation, sorry he’d engaged at all. 

“So back to Charlie,” Duke pressed forward, unaware of the dangerous ground on which he was treading. Bass wanted to slap Charlie’s name right out of this asshole’s unworthy mouth, but rationally he knew that would be an overreaction. “She knows who you are? The General Monroe stuff?” 

“Yeah. She’s aware. We’ve known each other a long time.” Why did he feel the need to explain himself to this guy? 

“Wow, interesting,” Duke commented with a put-on bewildered expression. “I only ask because she and I talked for like, hours, and she never even mentioned you. Not once. Yet here you are, acting like you guys have some big thing going on.” 

“I said I know her. That’s it.” 

“Right, right, gotcha. No, I figured it couldn’t be more than that. I mean, what would a great girl like Charlie be doing tangled up with the likes of you? No offense, but pretty much everyone knows your history. Not exactly the kind of thing any decent woman could overlook.” 

Bass didn’t respond, found that he couldn’t. What was there to say? This guy, obnoxious as he was, was absolutely right. No decent woman, including Charlie, should want to have anything to do with him. Sometimes he felt like they’d moved beyond his past, but it was always there. It would never go away. 

“Anyway, sorry to bother you, I just wanted to make sure, if I run into Charlie again before we get to Texas tomorrow that you don’t mind if I… you know. Pick up where she and I left off last night. Before you interrupted.” Duke laughed, a shade too loudly. “I kind of liked where things were going, you know?” 

Enough. Bass slammed the serving spoon he was holding down into its dish violently, sending food splatters everywhere. He faced Duke head-on, looking him in the eye, crowding the taller man’s personal space, his body tense with fury. 

“Maybe I wasn’t clear,” Bass intoned, his voice vibrating with menace. “Charlie wants nothing to do with you. You stay the hell away from her, and me, or you and I are going to have a problem. You got that?” 

“Alright, alright, got it!” Duke said, backing up a step or two, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Not sure you’re right about what Charlie wants or doesn’t want, but I’m not gonna fight through her guard dog. Not when there’s other pussy on this train that’s just as sweet.” Before Bass could summon a reaction, Duke grabbed his heaping plate and walked off, popping a grape into his mouth and laughing as he went. 

Bass continued making his plate, trying to ignore what Duke had said about the direction things had been going between himself and Charlie before Bass had showed up. Bass was suddenly, stupidly paranoid that Charlie had only gotten naked for him because she was horny after flirting with Duke all night. And this morning, the sex--now he wondered if that was really about him, Bass, or just scratching an itch after almost hooking up with some other random guy. But that was impossible. He knew that it had been more meaningful than that. Right? Bass hated that he was even questioning this. 

With the plate in one hand and two cups of coffee in the other, Bass made his way back to the cabin. Where he knew Charlie would be waiting for him, hopefully still naked and sexy as hell in bed. Once they’d eaten, Bass decided, he would see if she was interested in another round. Everything was fine, he told himself. He was getting worked up over nothing.

Bass opened the door of the cabin with his elbow, only sloshing a tiny bit of coffee out of the cups as he did so. “Breakfast is here,” he announced as he entered, looking over to the bed for Charlie. She wasn’t there. And what he saw next made him freeze in place. 

Charlie was standing, fully dressed, near the window, which she’d clearly opened. The room was freezing cold from the winter air rushing in. But that wasn’t what had panic clawing at Bass’ throat. It was what she held in her hand. The pendant. She’d found it. Goddamnit. He’d left it in his jacket, he now realized, and she’d found it. How could he have been so careless? But of course, he knew how, and the reason for his distraction was standing before him, her expression as hurt, upset, and furious as he’d ever seen her.

Bass quickly deduced that Charlie's plan was to throw the pendant out the window, and he couldn't understand why she hadn't already. All he knew was that he couldn't let her. Not after everything he'd gone through to get it, not after he'd come this far with it. 

Moving carefully, Bass set the dishes down on top of the dresser and kicked the door closed behind him, his hands open in a conciliatory gesture. “Charlie,” he said in a low voice. “I can imagine what you’re thinking right now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“Are you?” Charlie snapped. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure if you’d told me, I’d have gotten rid of it, and I know you don’t want that. Not to mention I never would have slept with you.” The words came out in a rush; she’d clearly been practicing for whenever he got back. “The only reason I haven’t thrown this fucking thing out the window already is that I wanted you to see me do it. And so you could hear me say that you’re not the man I thought you were. You are and always will be General Monroe, nothing more. And that’s sad for you. But I’m not going to let you ruin any more lives with this thing. It’s over.” 

The whole time Charlie was talking, Bass had been stalking ever-closer to her, her emotions running too high for her to notice. She didn’t have the experience of hundreds of rounds in the fighting ring, the sense of an attacker about to strike, like he did. 

He moved toward her slowly… slowly… as she finished her monologue. Bass saw Charlie's hand move upward, and that was when he pounced. With expert control, he targeted not her arm which he knew would cause her to panic and just shove the pendant out the window, but her legs, kicking them out from under her behind the knees. Instinctively, Charlie lowered her hands to the ground to catch her fall, the pendant tumbling to the floor as she let it go. 

Bass leapt for the pendant, but Charlie was closer. She grasped it again, struggling to get to her feet. They were both on the floor, far from the window, and Bass now knew he would get it from her. It was just a matter of how. Bass wouldn’t hurt her, but he also didn’t want to let her hurt herself as she tried to fight him.

Quickly, Bass grabbed Charlie and pinned her underneath him, straddling her, holding her down with his weight to prevent her from thrashing and smashing herself into the walls or furniture. It was a crude parody of their position when he was fucking her before, and it wasn’t lost on Charlie, who looked up at him, a sickening combination of hatred and fear in her eyes. She thrashed wildly beneath him, trying to get free, then finally thrust her hand, still holding the pendant, behind her back and under her ass. He could take it from her easily now, but he figured he’d try asking nicely first. 

“Let me have it,” he said. “Stop fighting. You know I’ll get it eventually.”

“Help! Help!” Charlie screamed at the top of her lungs, shocking him. “Help, he’s attacking me.” 

“Goddamnit,” Bass hissed, covering her mouth with his hand. Enough fucking around. He stretched his length out on top of Charlie, then rolled her half-up, immobilizing her legs with his, reaching around behind her and prying the pendant out of her hands. 

“No,” Charlie shouted at him as he leapt to his feet and made for the door. “Help!” she screamed again. “Thief! He’s stolen from me!”

Bass shoved the pendant down in the pocket of his jeans and whirled on Charlie. Backing her against the wall, he grabbed her face in one hand. “Listen to me. You want to run through this train screaming rape and robbery, you go right ahead. Maybe they’ll believe you, and you’ll get your precious pendant while I go to the noose. Or maybe they won’t, and you’ll just be the crazy bitch who made up fairy tales about a magical pendant. Which do you think it’s going to be?” 

Charlie stared at him for a second, breathing hard, then spit in his face. Bass laughed, and in its bitter tone he could feel a trace of the old General coming out. “That’s a good girl. No more screaming.” He let go of her and wiped his face as she looked at him with undisguised hatred. “You know you can’t beat me, Charlotte,” he said. “You never could.” With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone in the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

Bass considered trying to explain himself to her, to turn it all back around, but he was too hurt and angry. Besides, what was the use? Charlie had made it very clear that she would never believe him, would never trust him, no matter how many times he proved himself, no matter how much good he tried to do. It was almost enough to make him say fuck it all. He pulled the pendant out and looked at it in his palm. So much fuss for such a small thing. He closed his hand around it and went to find somewhere to hide from Charlie. 


	10. Chapter 10

Bass never came back to the room that night. Charlie debated with herself all day about whether she should try to track him down, but it always came back to: and then what? Try to fight him again? He was right, she knew she couldn’t beat him. Try to talk him into getting rid of the pendant? Trick him? It wouldn’t work. 

But the real reason she didn’t go after him was what he’d said. About him going to the noose. That had taken the fight right out of her, as she was sure it had been meant to. Damn him for being able to manipulate her so easily. And damn her for not wanting to see him die, no matter how much she hated him right now. Charlie well remembered how inexplicably devastating it had been to see Bass led to his execution by the Patriots, long ago. She never wanted to feel that way again, no matter what it cost her. She went to bed that night in her top bunk, all too aware of the empty bed beneath her.

The next morning, she went to grab breakfast out of the dining car, and when she returned, Bass’ stuff was gone. He must have been surveilling her somehow. Again she cursed him for always being a step ahead of her. Charlie packed up her own stuff, and when the train stopped, she bundled herself into her winter coat, and reminded herself that she was going to see Aaron for the first time in months. That did shake her out of her melancholy mood somewhat, and she stepped off the train with a thrill of excitement and anticipation in her body. Immediately, she was struck by how incredibly cold it was, for Texas. A thin layer of frost had actually formed on the ground, and she had to step carefully. 

The train station in Willoughby was nowhere near as substantial as the one in Washington, consisting really of just a wooden platform in the middle of a field.  The next big stop was Austin; Willoughby was just a little backwater pitstop on the way. Here, people clustered on the platform and in the grass nearby, watching the train eagerly.  Charlie scanned the crowd for Aaron.

There he was! Charlie hustled over to him, her rolling bag bumping over the ground. “Charlie?” Aaron said in astonishment as he saw her, and she let her bag drop as she threw her arms around him in a welcoming hug. “What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!” Aaron exclaimed as he released her. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I wasn’t,” Charlie said, and she explained how Miles had decided to stay behind at her mother’s insistence. Just then, she saw Bass approaching them. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well, wherever he’d been. But his intense eyes and chiseled jaw were as devastatingly gorgeous as ever, and he was all-too-appealing in his fine winter coat and scarf, the leather jacket apparently packed away for now.

Aaron followed her gaze. “Hey, Bass,” Aaron greeted him as he walked up. “Charlie was just telling me that Miles bailed on you guys, so she came instead. So that’s great, so you guys are together now?” Seeing Charlie’s disgusted expression, he quickly corrected himself. “Or… not together? I guess?”

“Aaron,” Bass interrupted him. “Everything is fine. But I think we should get going.” He glanced around with significance. 

Aaron’s light lit with understanding. “Right, okay, yeah, good call. Um, the carriage is over here.” Charlie and Bass followed him silently over the grass, Charlie finding herself wanting to lash out at Bass, but at the same time, fighting a gnawing jealousy that wondered where he had slept the night before.  For his part, Bass said nothing, though she could feel the heat of his gaze as he walked a half-pace behind her. 

A grand black carriage was waiting for the group. It was decorated for the holidays, Charlie noted with a smile, with lanterns hanging off the sides, a green garland around the top, and ribboned wreaths around the necks of the four horses. Without a word, Bass swung himself effortlessly up to the high front seat next to the driver, throwing down his bag at his feet.

“What are you doing? It’s freezing. Come sit in the cab,” Aaron called up to him. 

“I’m good up here,” Bass said over his shoulder, glancing at Charlie. “Let’s go.” 

“Weirdest guy ever, I swear,” Aaron muttered under his breath as he popped the door open for Charlie and gestured that she should get in, then handed up her luggage. He joined her inside, closing the door with finality against the cold. Charlie was grateful for the warmth inside from the small metal pans with hot coals heating it. Aaron handed her a thick plaid blanket to put over her lap and poured her a mug of steaming tea from a thermos, then took one of each for himself, as well. 

“Whew,” he breathed out. “Thought I’d freeze to death before you guys finally arrived. Can’t believe Bass is sitting out there. I mean, I know the guy likes to be broody, but there are limits, you know?” 

“He’s avoiding me,” Charlie explained. She felt a slight jolt as the carriage started moving. 

“Uh oh. Why? Did something… happen between you two?” Something about the way Aaron was asking made Charlie feel like he already knew about her and Bass. But that was impossible. 

“No,” Charlie denied it. “Not like that. I don’t even know how to say this other than to just say it. Bass… he has a pendant. On him, right now. I tried to get rid of it, but he got it back from me, and that’s why he’s avoiding me. I don’t know what we should do. I can’t believe he even had the nerve to ride with us. It’s like he’s rubbing it in my face.” 

Aaron was staring at Charlie in disbelief. “You… found out about the pendant?” he asked. “And you almost got rid of it?” 

“Yeah, but he got it from me before I could,” Charlie answered, then she realized. “Wait, you know about it?” It was clear he did. “What the hell?” She started to scoot away from Aaron, realized she had nowhere to go. “What’s going on, Aaron?” Raging at Bass was one thing, but she had known and trusted Aaron her whole life. He was no villain.

“Yea, I know about the pendant,” Aaron said. “Bass brought it to Texas to give it to me.” 

“Brought it to you for what?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest. 

“What do you think? To turn the lights back on.” 

Charlie felt nauseated. “Yeah, that’s all he’s ever wanted. So he can build some super weapon and take over the world again. And you’re helping him?” she demanded, her voice rising in indignation.

Aaron shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Pretty sure if Monroe wanted to be all Dr. Evil, he could have stayed in D.C. and done it up there.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

He sighed. “The military in D.C. found the pendant a few months ago. You know, the military in which Monroe happens to be a high-ranking officer? They were planning to use it to power weapons, even launching nukes if they could figure out how. It was going to be like the Tower all over again. So I’m pretty sure if Monroe wanted to go on a mad power trip, he could have just stayed right where he was. But he told me... he said he couldn’t let millions of people die on his watch. Not again.” 

Charlie was stunned. “So, what, you’re saying he… stole the pendant? From the Union?”

Aaron nodded. “But he reached out to me first, to see if I thought I could get the lights back on with it, and could keep it safe. I said yeah. It took a lot of planning, but…. Here we are.” Charlie could hear the excitement in his voice. 

Still trying to process everything she’d heard, Charlie asked, “So, what, you're going to just turn the lights on, just like that? Don’t you guys think that will screw things up even more?”

“To be honest, I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to do it. But even if I can’t, the pendant should allow us to power some small things. There’s a hospital here with doctors who can be trusted. We’ll use it to power machines, scanners, labs.” He paused for a second. “We even have a fetal heart rate monitor.” 

Charlie’s stomach sank in realization as she processed what Aaron was saying. Shit. This was all a lot to take in. Within the space of a day, she’d gone from being as happy as she’d ever been, in Bass’ arms, to hating him, to finding out that he’d risked himself incredibly bravely for all the right reasons. And she felt horrible for the things she’d said to him, for nearly destroying what he’d worked so hard for. But then again… 

“Why the hell didn’t he just tell me?” Charlie demanded of Aaron. “When I found the stupid thing. Why not tell me it was so he could help sick babies, or whatever? Instead he just stood there while I yelled at him and didn’t say a word to defend himself.” 

Aaron gave her a look. “In case you hadn’t noticed, our boy has a bit of a self-loathing problem. Any time someone thinks the worst of him, he’s the first to agree.” 

Charlie sat in silence for several seconds, absorbing that. She remembered how careful Bass had been not to really hurt her as they fought, despite his fierce determination to secure the pendant. And the hurt in his eyes as she’d spit at him, the General Monroe mask sliding smoothly into place in response. She regretted her actions now. Why couldn’t she have just asked him why he had a pendant, let him explain? Why had she had to turn it into a huge fight? 

Because it wasn’t just about the pendant, she knew. Finding out something Bass had been hiding from her, after they’d just shared the most intimate possible experience, had been the realization of all her worst fears. She’d panicked. And totally thrown her trust in Bass out the window. No wonder he hadn’t bothered to explain himself. She had acted like the last year and a half hadn’t even happened, like he was the same General Monroe that she’d woken up across from in an empty swimming pool all that time ago. 

“I feel terrible,” she said. “I totally went off on him. I spat in his face.” 

Aaron laughed a little bit at that. “You did? Wow. I mean, if there’s anyone who he wouldn’t immediately kill for that, it’s you, but still.” He paused. “Anyway, just talk to him. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “Okay, enough depressing stuff. Tell me about what we’re doing for Christmas.”

Aaron’s mood shifted instantly, and he launched into a description of the decorations at the house, the dinners and parties they’d be throwing, and the presents he’d gotten everyone. Charlie was happy to hear about all of it, but mostly she just wanted them to get to the house, so she could talk to Bass. 

Finally, she watched as they drove under a wooden archway, wrapped in a green garland, that marked the entrance to Aaron’s driveway. She was in awe as they went up the drive and she saw the numerous lanterns decorating the lawn, and the wreaths on the front of the house. It was truly breathtaking. 

They came to a stop in front of the front door, and three doormen rushed over to help them out of the carriage.  One took Charlie’s bag, the other greeted her warmly, and the third entered into an frantic discussion with Aaron about guest quarters. Behind them, Charlie saw Bass hop out of the front seat, slipping behind the men, who had overlooked him, apparently assuming he was a staff member rather than a guest. 

“Bass, wait,” she called out, just before he entered the house. He turned and met her eyes, and it was one of those moments where the fact of his beauty just hit her in the gut. Charlie suddenly recalled the feeling of his hands on her body, and she flushed hot. She took a couple steps toward Bass, as the doormen waited discreetly off to the side, but still within hearing distance.

“Aaron told me everything,” she said to him, the words coming out somewhat more accusatory than she’d intended. “Why the hell didn’t you say something yesterday?” 

Bass frowned slightly. “Not here,” he said, glancing around at the people nearby, turning from her to go ahead into the house, his body language clearly conveying he didn’t want her to follow him. 

“Okay, I just… I’m sorry,” Charlie blurted out, not wanting him to go. 

Bass stepped back toward her. He lifted his hand and took a breath, as if to reply. Then he changed his mind, sighing and letting his hand drop. Instead, he just nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned again and walked away. 


	11. Chapter 11

“Five, in the corner,” Bass said, gesturing with his pool cue. He lined up the shot and knocked it confidently into the pocket, pleased that he hadn’t lost his touch. It had been years since he’d played pool, but apparently it was one of those skills that stayed with you.

“Obnoxious,” Aaron commented, watching as Bass lined up and called his next shot. “I invite you into my home, and this is how you repay me?” Aaron and Bass were hanging out in what Aaron excitedly called his “man cave,” a dark-paneled room with a pool table and a foosball table, large leather couches, and of course, a well-stocked bar. The only differences between the ones Bass remembered pre-Blackout and this one were that this one had no TV, and candles and lanterns in place of neon beer signs.

As soon as Bass had gotten Aaron alone, he had gladly handed off the pendant, which Aaron had secured in a safe to which only he knew the combination, hidden behind a mirror in the man cave. Cliche, but effective.

“So, um, you gonna tell me how exactly it all went down? With… you know, getting that thing?” Aaron glanced over at the wall where the pendant was locked up.

Bass followed his gaze, then gave Aaron a serious look. “It’s complicated and bloody and involves killing a lot of people. You sure you want to know?”

Aaron considered, then shook his head. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

The men played a few more shots in silence, then Bass spoke up, “What about you? You wanna tell me how you’re gonna use that thing to turn the lights back on?”

“It’s complicated and messy and involves solving a lot of equations. You sure you want to know?”

Bass smirked. “I’m good.”

Aaron took a deep breath, “So, I told Charlie about why you had the pendant.”

Bass watched Aaron closely but kept his face neutral. “I figured. She believe you?”

“What? Of course she believed me! I’m not you,” Aaron said. Bass glared at him. “Sorry. I just mean she trusts me.”

“I get it.”

After a pause, Aaron added, “She trusts you, too, you know. She felt awful when I told her.”

Bass rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Maybe she should. She spit in my face. Basically told me I was just as worthless as everyone always thought. Didn’t even give me a chance to explain.”

“Okay, but honestly, you don’t have the best track record.” At Bass’ expression, he quickly amended, “You’ve gotten better! You are. But can you blame her for a moment’s doubt?”

Bass knocked another shot down. “No,” he said darkly. “I can’t. Which is why it’s probably better for both of us if I just stay away from her.”

“Oh come on, that’s crap,” Aaron challenged Bass. Bass rose his eyebrows at Aaron’s boldness. “Look, I’ve kept my mouth shut for long enough, but for god’s sake. Something is obviously going on between you guys. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’ve seen it for awhile. And as Ben’s best friend, I’m the closest thing she has to a father, so I’m just telling you, Bass. If you care about her, you need to forgive her and move on.”

Bass thought about the moment he got off of the wagon, when Charlie had tried to talk to him as he was going into the house. He’d purposely blown her off, shitty as he knew it was. And though the hurt and scared part of him wanted to hang onto his righteous anger a bit longer, he found that he just didn’t have the will. Not when it came to Charlie. Hell, the woman had tried to shoot him in the head and he’d forgiven her for that. What was a little slander in comparison to that?

“Alright, fine,” he grumbled to Aaron. “And I’m done talking about this.”

“Fine,” Aaron said, satisfied. “By the way, I know you want to keep a low profile, but a couple of the people who work at the hospital really wanted to meet you and thank you in person, so they’re coming over with their kids for dinner tonight. Don’t kill me.”

Bass shrugged. “Works for me. I like people.”

“Do you?” Aaron said skeptically. “Okay. Well, let’s have some drinks in the den beforehand. Say, six? It’s the room with the big Christmas tree. But just keep it between the two of us, cause Priscilla will kill me if she thinks I’m getting drunk before our guests arrive.”

“Sounds good, brother,” Bass replied. Gesturing silently with his pool cue, he sank his final ball. “Now, you up for another round, or are you tired of getting beat yet?”

“Bring it on,” Aaron said.

* * *

Later that evening, Bass was waiting for Aaron as promised. He hoped his host didn’t find it rude that he had already found the booze and helped himself. Bass lounged on the overstuffed loveseat, admiring the glittering glass ornaments on Aaron’s Christmas tree. A cheerful fire had been set in the fireplace, and Bass found himself feeling surprisingly content.

He pushed out of his mind the thought that he knew it wouldn’t last; it never did. The last time he had felt this good, a few days ago with Charlie in his arms, it had blown up in his face. Knowing his luck, the tree would shortly catch on fire or something. But he would enjoy it for now.

Bass heard someone enter the room. “Hey, man,” he said, glancing up, then cutting his words short when he saw that it wasn’t Aaron, who was suddenly at the top of his shit list. Instead, Charlie stood in the doorway, looking wary and hesitant. Obviously this had been Aaron’s plan, to get them to talk to each other.

“Before you attack me, you should know I don’t have it,” Bass said, looking away from her. “It’s in a safe that only Aaron knows the combination to, so you’re going to have to go after him.”

Charlie frowned and shut the door to the room behind her. “I know you don’t have it. God.”

“That’s really not necessary. ‘Bass’ will be fine.” Bass knew he was provoking her, but he didn’t care. Charlie being mad at him, hating him, was something he was comfortable with. Screw what he’d told Aaron, that he’d try to make amends. Whatever had happened on the train could stay back there.

Charlie made an exasperated noise and stalked toward him. “So you’re still mad at me? I told you I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Bass said coolly. “A miscommunication. It happens.”

Balling up her fists in frustration, Charlie replied, “It was a little more than that. Why the hell didn’t you just tell me what was going on?”

Bass laughed bitterly. “Charlie, how long have we known each other? When have I ever gotten anywhere by trying to get you to listen to reason?”

“Reason?” Charlie raised her voice. “I found a pendant, the last time one of which I saw, it was used to nuke half the fucking world, and I’m the unreasonable one?”

Bass shrugged, making his demeanor exaggeratedly calm in contrast to hers. “Like I said, it’s fine. Of course you thought the worst. Why would you have any reason to do otherwise?” He tried to stop himself, but he added, “To trust me.”

Charlie raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed deeply. With some difficulty, she said, “I know. I should have trusted you.” Bass didn’t reply, and she let the words hang there in the silence for what felt like a long time. Instead of saying more, she walked over to the couch where Bass was sitting. He followed her with his eyes as she sat, not next to him, but on the floor next to his legs, close to the fire, staring into it. He stared at her. He couldn’t help it. This infuriating, incorrigible woman was all he wanted. As he watched the firelight play in her hair, as he had so many times before, he felt his resolve slipping.

“Every once in awhile, I wonder… is he coming back, you know?” Charlie spoke again. “General Monroe.”

“Me too,” Bass said quietly. They lapsed into thoughtful silence, each wrestling with emotions too raw and complicated to explain, but too important not to try. “But I’m sick of feeling like I’m constantly on trial. I get enough of that from your mom, even Miles. I thought I was past it, with you.”

“You are,” Charlie said. “I just think, it was worse because I found it, right after we…” She trailed off, then finished her thought. “I just thought, what if it was all a lie. A huge mistake. What did I just do?”

Bass closed his eyes briefly. Well, didn’t he just feel like even more of an asshole. So she regretted sleeping with him. He should have known better. Just swallowed down his desire for her like he had so many times before, keeping a safe distance. Damn him for his weakness.

“That’s the last thing I wanted,” he tried to explain. “For you to have regrets about what happened.”

Charlie whirled around, looking at him earnestly, scrambling to her knees. “No! Shit, no, Bass, that’s not what I’m saying. I don't regret it. Not at all. Not now that I know the truth.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “We’re okay.” He wasn’t sure what the hell he meant by that. He just knew he meant it. He noticed that Charlie was very close, kneeling in front of him, and that distracted him from all other thoughts. Was he still supposed to be angry with her? Was she mad at him? Who really cared, at this point? He reached his hand up and cupped her cheek, threading the tips of his fingers into her hair, his heart soaring when she leaned into him slightly.

She took his hand in both of hers and kissed his palm, then dropped his hand, slowly rising up to sit next to him on the couch, her legs curled toward him, one thigh overlapping his. Bass put a hand on her leg and shifted to pull her more into his lap, and she moved so she was straddling him, the warm weight of her curvy body feeling like heaven itself.

Charlie looked at him with a half-smile. “You forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Bass readily agreed. Fuck, he’d agree to anything at this point. His cock was quickly hardening underneath her, and he thought in irritation that there were way too many clothes between them.

Charlie put her hand on the side of his neck and bent down to kiss him. Their bodies pressed together as they kissed, Bass putting his hands on Charlie’s ass, squeezing and pulling her close. Her hair fell around them, and she tossed it impatiently out of the way, leaning back in to kiss Bass more urgently. Bass moaned as Charlie kissed her way down his jawline, then his neck, her hands busy running down his chest, his stomach, then lower...

Suddenly, the door to the room banged open, and Charlie and Bass both startled. One of Aaron’s staff members peered in, then gasped when she saw Charlie and Bass, quickly averting her eyes. “I, ah, Mr. Pittman says to tell everyone dinner is served in fifteen minutes.” She turned and hurried out the door, slamming it behind her.

Charlie leaned forward and buried her head in Bass’ shoulder. “Oh my godddd,” she groaned in humiliation, the words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Talk about a mood killer. Bass nudged Charlie slightly, and she climbed off his lap.

“Think she’ll tell Aaron?” Charlie said, raising her head up, her cheeks flushed. She stood up, smoothing her clothes and hair back into place.

“Probably,” Bass replied, not adding that Aaron would probably be happy to learn they had kissed and made up. As they walked out of the room together, Bass admitted he had to give the big guy credit where it was due. Aaron was easy to underestimate, but if he could get two stubborn-as-hell people like Bass and Charlie to quit fighting, he could probably do damn near anything. Maybe even get the lights back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, the story is back, and there will be an ending, I promise! Thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Next chapter coming soon!


	12. Chapter 12

Late that night, Charlie found herself unable to sleep. Dinner had been pleasant enough. In fact, the townspeople Aaron had invited over were wonderful, especially in how they acted toward Bass. It had made Charlie happy to see him being treated with such genuine respect and appreciation, thanks to his having delivered the pendant. No one spoke about it directly, but they clearly had some idea of how dangerous and difficult it had been for him to do what he’d done for them and let him know they were grateful. 

Charlie couldn’t help but notice the contrast between that and how Bass was often treated at home by her mother, even by Miles--as some kind of tamed wild animal. Useful in his way, but never to be fully trusted. She’d never really realized that was the case, until tonight. 

But as happy as she was for Bass, she couldn’t help but wish that the people of Willoughby had been slightly less interested in spending time with him. The conversation over dinner moved into the den after the meal, and it went on and on. Charlie had been dying to get Bass alone, and from the looks he was giving her, she could swear he felt the same, but there was no way for him to extricate himself without being rude. He was the man of the hour, the evening. Eventually, she had politely excused herself, and she really had been tired. But now, hours later, sleep was not coming. 

Frustrated, Charlie threw back the covers. Before she could think too much about it, she was on her feet and out the door of her room. Slowly, as quietly as she could, she made her way down the hall. There was a huge picture window at the end, where blue moonlight was streaming in. She was just going to go admire the view, she told herself. The fact that the room Bass was staying in was also on that end of the hall had nothing to do with it. 

Charlie reached the window and looked out. Aaron’s property was beautiful. From her vantage point, she could see a vast lot stretching back toward a small lake, and heavily forested land beyond. She’d only been standing there for a few moments, when she heard the click of a door opening behind her, and she shivered with excitement. She didn’t turn around. 

Bass joined her at the window, standing slightly behind her. “Thought I heard someone out here,” he said in a low voice. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

Charlie shook her head. “Not really. You?” She turned to face him, lust rushing over her as she took in the sight of him, out in the hall in just his sleep pants, no shirt on. The planes of his body were alternately lit and shadowed by the moonlight. He looked like a dream come to life. 

“No.” They were standing close. Charlie wanted to touch him, but drew the moment out, feeling the tension stretching between them. Plus, here, anyone could see them. Even though they were alone, best to be prudent. 

“You want to…” Bass trailed off, not finishing the question, not needing to. Charlie just nodded, not quite able to meet his eyes. He stepped aside to let her go first, into his half-open bedroom door a few feet away. 

Charlie walked inside, and God, somehow the room already smelled like him, in the best possible way. Charlie watched Bass close the door behind them. As soon as he did, he came toward her, and instinctively she moved so her back was against the wall. With a half-smile, Bass put one hand on her cheek, then leaned forward and kissed her. Charlie couldn’t help whimpering slightly as he did. Yes, this was what had kept her up, what she wanted. Needed. 

She kissed him back eagerly, and he responded in kind, his body pressing against hers, his thigh working its way between her legs, her nightgown riding up. Bass helped it along, sliding a hand up her thigh and cupping her ass, kneading it firmly, almost hard enough to hurt. From the insistence of his movements, this was not to be the slow seduction of the train, Charlie could tell, and she was happy to ride along. She curled her leg around his, opening herself to him, and immediately, Bass slipped his hand under her panties, his hand stroking her bare flesh, finding her wet and ready for him, and he pushed two fingers inside her, sucking and biting at her neck as he did. Charlie gasped into his ear, grinding down on his hand, mewling when he ran his fingers aggressively over her clit, spreading her moisture everywhere. 

Bass pulled his hand away and kissed her once more, hard, then led her over to the bed. Charlie sat on the edge and wriggled out of her nightgown and tossed it aside, leaving her just in her panties. She moved to remove those, too, but Bass was faster. “Lay down,” he commanded, and she obeyed, leaning back on her elbows. Bass tugged her panties off and down her legs, then ran his hands back up her thighs, parting them and kneeling between them. Charlie watched in fascination as he lowered his mouth to her aching cunt, licking and sucking her eagerly, almost violently. God, it was so fucking good. He filled her with his fingers, teased her with lips and tongue, and stroked her forcefully inside, demanding her orgasm from her, taking it by delicious force. Charlie cried out helplessly as she came, her body exploding with almost overwhelming pleasure beneath Bass’ talented ministrations. 

Bass stood, wiping his mouth on his hand, then quickly pushed his pants off, crawling over Charlie so she had no choice but to scoot back on the bed along with him. He bent forward, grabbing one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, biting soft. Charlie spread her thighs wider, begging him wordlessly for what she needed now. Bass balanced himself on one arm, his other hand guiding his cock to her soaking wet entrance. Charlie felt his tip, hot and rock hard, then he pushed inside her, stretching her, filling her. His pace was fast, desperate, and she wanted it as hard as he wanted to give it to her. Her nails dug into his back as he fucked her, branding him hers. “Yes, Bass,” she breathed. “God, yes.” 

He caught her mouth in a hard, wet kiss, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, forcing her jaw open, dancing on the edge of control. They parted, and Charlie gasped for breath, tilting her hips into his, wanting him deeper inside, wanting him to come even as she didn’t want it to end. She raised her hands above her head, grasping the bars of the headboard, using it for leverage to hold herself in place, to push back into Bass, giving him all of her, open and ready. “Fuck,” Bass groaned as she did, growing harder and thicker inside her, his cock moving faster. She felt him shudder as he came, with a few last, deep thrusts, holding her tight beneath him. 

Rolling off her, he pulled her into his chest. Charlie was happily stunned. That had been without a doubt, the most intense, raw sex of her life. She breathed it in, savoring the moment, being with him. With Bass. The most magnificent man she’d ever known. Being with him on the train, then having it ripped away from her--she thought--so suddenly, gave her a new appreciation for how far they'd come together. She had once hated him for the things he made her feel. Now she just felt them, and while it was scary as hell, it also felt right. Perhaps in time it would become her new normal, like so many other things had. 

Bass exhaled contentedly beneath her. After some time, he spoke softly. “This is what I want,” he said. “Us. Like this.” Charlie felt her throat close with emotion, her heart racing. She couldn’t speak. Bass squeezed her slightly, and she felt his lips in her hair, letting her know that she didn’t have to say anything. She tilted her head up and saw Bass looking down at her. Rather than speak, she scooted up slightly and kissed him. He laced a hand softly in her hair as she did, and when they parted, she rested her forehead against his, breathing in his breath. And wasn’t that what they’d been doing for the last year-plus, really? Keeping each other breathing. Being there for each other. Bass deserved more than wordless acknowledgement from her, she knew. He deserved the truth. 

“I want it, too,” she confessed. “You. Us.” The words didn’t come easy, but once she’d said them, she felt such an immense sense of relief, she understood why Bass had made his confession. No more hiding. 

Charlie felt more than saw Bass’ smile, felt him kiss her lightly, then roll away slightly, pulling her onto his chest. “Good,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Then you stay right here.” And when she did, funnily enough, Charlie found she had absolutely no trouble falling asleep. 

* * *

The plan was to stay at Aaron’s for another week, through Christmas, then head back home. Charlie was eager for the opportunity to fully enjoy the holidays. Bass (and Miles, originally) had official Union business in Willoughby to handle while they were there, which kept him busy during the day. Charlie on the other hand considered herself on vacation and spent her days baking cookies with Priscilla, reading by the fire, and taking walks in the woods. Nights, she and Bass spent together. Charlie couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy, but she tried to avoid thinking about it too directly, not entirely trusting it.

In the past, when Charlie had thought about what it would mean for her and Bass to be together, it had mostly been about sex. Her lust for Bass was overwhelming, and while of course she cared for him and enjoyed his company, she always kind of figured that them being together would basically be the same, just with lots and lots of sex. And it was definitely that. Bass touched her at seemingly every opportunity, putting his hand on her back as they walked through doors, putting his hand on her leg as they sat by the fire, and yes, grabbing her ass if he saw an opportune moment. Charlie found she couldn’t keep her hands off him, either. All those times she had itched to rest her cheek on the leather of his jacket or twine his arms around his trim waist, now she had to remind herself she could actually do it. Not when anyone else was around, still, but they were alone often enough. 

But beyond the physical, Charlie was amazed at the difference in Bass. He was always so guarded. She knew he’d let her in more than most, but now even more so. He laughed more, teased her more, let her see genuine emotion, happiness, worry, whatever. Charlie had always known on some level that Bass just wanted to be loved. It was obvious in his interactions with Miles, his stories about his family, his past. Bass just wanted to be loved, and Charlie knew she was well on her way, giving him more and more of her heart all the time. In the course of just a few days, it felt like everything that had been building between them for the last months, years, was finally falling into place. Charlie knew it wouldn’t be all sunshine and roses, especially once they got back to D.C., back to her family, and all the baggage and complications. But for now, here, they just enjoyed each other. 

On Christmas Eve, after they’d exchanged gifts with Aaron and Priscilla, Bass and Charlie were in her room, since hers was the one with a fireplace. The fire cast the room in a warm glow, which had been perfect to make love by, and they’d taken full advantage. Now Charlie sat wrapped in the sheets, her nightgown back in place. She watched as Bass got up and went over to where his jacket was laying on the floor and started digging through the pockets. “What are you doing?” she asked. 

Bass turned, a small paper bag in his hand. “Merry Christmas,” he said, tossing it on the bed in front of her. 

Charlie glared. “You know I didn’t get you anything.” She was kind of embarrassed, but it hadn't even occurred to her. Besides, what was she supposed to get him, half a continent? 

He just smirked. “Too bad. Open it.” Charlie picked up the bag and was suddenly nervous. Only a few things would fit into a bag this size. 

Slowly, she unrolled the top and pulled out the small box inside. Charlie hadn’t received any gift of jewelry from a man in her life, as far as she remembered, but she knew enough to know that depending on what was inside, this could mean something very serious. She gasped when she opened it and saw, laying on the bed of cotton inside, a ring. It was beautiful, perfect for her--delicate and intricately etched with designs that somehow evoked the branches of the forest while she was hunting, the lines of her arrows. She loved it, but… 

Seeing her reaction, Bass quickly reached in and pulled the ring out, and Charlie saw that attached to it was a delicate chain, which he held it up by, with the ring hanging off it. “Just a necklace,” he explained with a smile. After a pause, he added. “For now. For as long as you want, I mean.” 

“Thank you,” Charlie found her voice, taking the necklace from him, running her finger over the design. “I love it.” She ignored even the possibility of slipping it on her finger, and instead held it back out to Bass. “Help me with the clasp?” 

He did, and the necklace sat perfectly, the long chain positioning the ring directly over her heart, low enough that it would be safe beneath her clothes. Looking up, she met Bass’ eyes, and she couldn’t help grinning at his possessive expression. She hopped up out of the bed, walking over to the bureau mirror so she could see for herself. “It does look good,” she commented, as Bass came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

Watching their reflections side by side, Bass agreed. “Looks perfect.”


	13. Chapter 13

Bass watched out the window as the train pulled into a small station in what had once been South Carolina. There wasn’t much to it, much like the “station” in Willoughby that was basically a wooden platform in the middle of nowhere, though there was also a small structure for people to wait inside. 

He and Charlie were a couple of days into the train ride back, after finishing their visit with Aaron and Priscilla. It had been far more pleasant than the journey down to Texas. For a rare moment in their lives, Charlie and Bass had no targets on their backs and nothing but time--time together. Their days on the train were filled with long talks, quietly reading together wedged into the small train bunk, decent meals in the dining car, and of course, plenty of sex. Bass gave a crooked grin at the memory of that morning’s session. Yeah, he could definitely get used to life like this. 

As the passengers disembarked for what they’d been warned would be a brief stop, Bass spotted Charlie through the window as she hopped off the train and walked down the tracks. She'd said she needed to stretch her legs for a few minutes. Bass admired the sight of her retreating for a few moments, then turned back his book. They'd arrive in Washington, D.C. tomorrow morning. Bass was somewhat nervous about what would be waiting for him there, even though he was fairly certain he’d gotten away with taking the pendant. Word would probably have reached them in Texas some way or another if he’d been caught, but everything had been fine. 

Of course, even if the powers that be had no idea he’d stolen the pendant, that wasn’t the only problem he could potentially have to contend with when he got home. Bass knew was also going to have to face the wrath of Miles and Rachel when he and Charlie told them that they were together. Not that there would be some big announcement, but they were bound to find out eventually. Bass would never admit this to anyone, but on many occasions, he had thought about what he would say to Miles if he had to defend his relationship with Charlie. It had seemed like a ridiculous fantasy at the time. Now, it seemed, the conversation was actually going to happen. 

Bass heard the sound of someone approaching down the hallway, and his instincts caused him to put his book down and rise to his feet, a tightening in his chest signaling what his mind couldn't articulate. Sure enough, a knock at the door came.

"Yeah?" Bass called out, his body tensed for action. "It's open."

The door swung inward, and a sturdy young soldier in a Union uniform stepped halfway into the room. "General Monroe?" the kid asked.

"Yeah," Bass replied. "Can I help you?"

"I've got orders to bring you in, sir," he replied. "Orders of General Matheson."

Bass felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart racing. So Miles had figured it out, after all. Goddamnit. Outwardly, he remained calm and scoffed, "Tell Miles I'll see him when I get back to Washington." 

The soldier nodded. "He said you might not cooperate. He also said to tell you that if you come quietly now, they'll assume the girl wasn't involved. Otherwise... they won't."

Bass heard the threat, knew the ruthlessness with which Miles could operate. Probably he wouldn't actually hurt Charlie, but with Miles the way he had been lately, who really knew? He might use Charlie as leverage if it meant getting to Bass. He knew what he had to do. 

Sighing, Bass stepped toward the soldier. "So do you have to cuff me or something?" he asked, holding his arms out in front of him, his hands limp, just a few inches from the younger man. Before the soldier could respond, Bass leapt into action, taking advantage of his close proximity to grab the soldier by the forearms and throw him into the room, quickly kicking the door shut behind him. The soldier stumbled into the bed, but quickly reared up and slammed Bass back into the wall.

They struggled violently, but Bass with his superior fighting skills quickly got the soldier into a chokehold. Grunting, holding the other man down, squeezing his neck, Bass finally felt him go limp in his arms. Cautiously, Bass loosened his grip, not wanting to kill the man, but also not wanting to fall for a feint. The soldier remained slumped on the ground. Once he was sure it was safe to do so, Bass turned and began to pack in a hurry, knowing he had just a few minutes before the soldier would come to. He needed to be long gone by then.

The door to the room opened again, and Bass squared up, prepared for another assault by the guy's backup. Instead, Charlie walked into the room. She gasped in horror when she saw the crumpled, uniformed body on the bed, breathing but unconscious. "What happened?" she asked, looking at Bass with wide eyes.

"It's your uncle," Bass explained as he threw the last of his things in his bag. "He knows it was me." Sliding the zipper of his bag closed, he put it on his shoulder and looked at Charlie, who was stunned into silence. "I have to get out of here." Bass wanted to say more, but there was no time. Instead, he pulled Charlie to him and kissed her quickly and made for the door.

"Hold on," Charlie said, grabbing her bag, ignoring the things of hers that were scattered around the room. "I'm coming with you."

Bass paused and closed his eyes in exasperation, "Charlie, don't. You don't have to run. Just go back to Washington. Tell them the truth, that you didn't know anything about it. You'll be fine."

"We don't have time for this, he’s going to wake up," she replied, pushing past Bass to get to the door. "And I won't be fine if I go back, not without you." She stepped out into the hallway, not bothering to look back to see if Bass was behind her.

Bass had no choice but to follow. They moved down the corridor of the train, Bass still protesting.

"You do this now, you're a fugitive too," he pleaded with her. "I don't want that for you." He pulled her back by her upper arm, placing himself between her and the exit. "Just stay. Here."

Charlie glared and got up in his face. “You can’t make me stay, and I’m not going to. I’m coming with you. You want to stop me?” A humorous glint lit in her eyes, “Shoot me.” 

Bass pursed his lips, knowing there was nothing he could do, feeling his resolve slip as he admitted to himself that he really didn’t want her to stay behind. “Damn stubborn Mathesons,” he mumbled, turning to lead the way off the train. 

“Damn right,” Charlie said to his back. She heard the train whistle sound, signaling its imminent departure, as they approached the open door at the end of the corridor. The cabin steward was coming back aboard just as they moved to get off. 

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am, but the train is departing,” he protested. “You don’t want to get left behind.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Charlie said. “This is our stop.” 

The steward looked confused, but he stepped aside to let them disembark. Charlie followed right behind Bass, stumbling as the train slid into motion just as her foot left the last step. Bass caught her smoothly, helping her regain her balance, then standing with his arms around her. They both turned to watch for several seconds as the train slowly picked up speed as it left the station. Then their eyes met, and silently, they acknowledged that it was time to go. 

They made the way down the hill falling away from the train tracks, toward a small town that was little more than a shadow on the horizon. Bass had no idea what they would find there, or what the next day would bring, but whatever happened, he was sure as hell glad he had Charlie by his side to face it.


End file.
